


Return to Me

by jypzrose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jypzrose/pseuds/jypzrose
Summary: Eight months ago Spike disappeared without a trace, leaving the Scoobies behind to frantically search for him. Just as they are about to give up, he shows up at Buffy's house, wild, broken, and unable to speak. What happened to him, and can Buffy, with Angel, help him? NC-17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Eight months ago Spike disappeared without a trace, leaving the Scoobies behind to frantically search for him. Just as they are about to give up, he shows up at Buffy's house, wild, broken, and unable to speak. What happened to him, and can Buffy, with Angel, help him?  
> Spoilers: through the Gift. AU after that. Buffy did return from the dead.
> 
> Rating: NC-17
> 
> Disclaimer: BtVS and AtS are the property of Joss Whedon, ME and Fox. Any original characters, are mine

**Prologue**

He had to run, he had to go faster. He could hear them, crashing through the trees, and yelling. They weren't worried about being quiet, because they were convinced they'd catch him before quiet had to be a factor.

He didn't know which way to go, and he couldn't stop to focus and decide. The sounds and scents of the night closed around him, confusing him, but he didn't stop. He'd been locked up in that metal room for so long, he couldn't tell time or direction any longer. Logical thought no longer rolled through his brain, it was now replaced with images and sounds, and smells. None of it nice.

He pushed himself again when he saw the fence up ahead. Freedom, it screamed. If he could get over it, he'd be free, and he could go home. Not that he could really comprehend the word anymore. But every time it was said to him, in those low, taunting tones, the colors gold, red, mahogany and brown flashed across his mind's eye, comforting him. When that happened, he could retreat further into himself, away from the pain and torture, and the violation they bestowed on him.

He could pretend he was safe, until they forced him back to reality, making him lose another strip of his mind.

As he sped through the night, the colors of home threading around him, urging him on, he focused on the fence. He was weak and hungry, and didn't honestly know if he could clear it, but he knew he had to. They were closer now, their voices a constant buzzing in his ear. With a final burst of speed, he threw himself at the chain link, using a rock as a spring board, and launching himself over it. He hissed with pain at the electric shock that jarred through him when his foot hit the top of the fence. He managed to tuck and roll, sliding to his feet with a fraction of his usual grace.

Joy lanced through him, threatening to cripple him and get him captured again. He shook it off, instinct telling him to keep moving, he wasn't safe yet. There was also the added threat of the fast approaching dawn, the promise of its coming making his skin itch. He didn't let himself worry about it, or the people behind him, as he took off in a blind run into the trees surrounding the complex. Home. He needed to get home. Then he would be safe, then he could rest. Home.

~*~*~

"Alright, I'm coming!" Buffy shouted, bounding down the stairs. Annoyance was evident on her face at being woken so early. Didn't people realize she had been up all night, searching for one wayward vampire and protecting the streets of Sunnydale so their children didn't get eaten?

Well, no, she supposed they didn't, which caused her scowl to deepen as she yanked open the door.

"Somebody better be. . ." She trailed off at the sight in front of her, not wanting to say the word for fear that it might be true. She dropped to her knees, oblivious to the neighbors who were getting ready to go to work, who were staring at the odd young woman in a tank top and flannel pajama bottoms, trying to rouse the slumped figure on her porch. They shook their heads, and got in their cars, wondering once more about the woman that kept late hours, and had the punk boyfriend who was never seen during the day.

"Oh my god," Buffy gasped, carefully gripping a wickedly thin shoulder to turn the figure onto his back. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of his gaunt face, his once perfect, alabaster skin now a sickly pale, and pulled tight over his skull. "Oh my god," she said again, carefully picking him up, and taking him inside the house, away from the deadly rays that were sneaking up the porch. He must have used the last of his strength to beat on the door, to wake her up.

She placed him gingerly on the couch, after making sure the drapes were pulled. She took a long minute to stare down at him, her heart threatening to break in her chest at how. . .dead he looked. Alright, he was _technically_ dead, but he never looked it. He was so full of a vibrant energy that seemed to seep from his pores, even in sleep. The tears dripped down her cheeks, her eyes staring in disbelief at the vampire she had finally started to call friend after she had been so rudely ripped from heaven.

*Get it together, Buff,* she told herself, wiping the tears away and turning to search for a blanket. She pulled a throw off the back of a chair, and arranged it around him, mentally reeling from how thin he was. *Blood, he needs blood,* she told herself next, reluctantly leaving him so she could go to the kitchen and get some for him. She went straight to the fridge, and pulled out two of the bags she and Willow stubbornly kept there, not wanting to believe he was gone. Now, she was thrilled they had been so bull headed, even when Xander was telling them to give up.

She set about warming the blood, concentrating on that task, and not thinking about anything else, afraid she would melt into a weeping pile of uselessness if she did.

*Just make the blood, Buffy. Don't think of anything else,* she told herself. When the microwave dinged, she pulled out the bags and grabbed a mug out of the cabinet, then placed it all on the center island and went to work on pouring the blood into the mug. She fingered the knife when she was done, looking at the glinty steel, then down at the crimson contents of the mug. Without another thought, she raised her wrist over the top, and sliced it quickly, barely flinching at the pain. She contemplated the stream as it slid out of her, and into the mug, slowly coming to a stop as her slayer healing kicked in.

"A little dose of Slayer goodness should have him feeling better in no time," she said with a nod, turning to bandage the already healing wound, and then picking up the mug to return to the living room. The tears welled up again as soon as she saw him, huddled under the blanket on the couch, so thin and still. Taking a determined breath, she moved towards the couch, and put the mug on the coffee table, then sat carefully next to him.

"Sp. . ." she started, laying a hand on his chest. She could feel his ribs, even through the barrier of the blanket and filthy green medical scrubs he had on. Horror flashed through her, and she almost lost her hold on her tears. Fighting them back with the reminder that he wouldn't get better if she broke down, she gave him a light shake and tried again. "Spike?" There, just saying his name made it real, even though she was having a hard time reconciling the Spike of old with this creature in front of her. "Spike, come on, you have to wake up. I have blood." She picked up the mug and dipped a finger in it, then held it under his nose. He didn't stir. "Spike. Please. It's chock full of Slayer vitamins. I'd give it to you from the tap, but you have to wake up." Her voice had taken on pleading quality, a harsh laugh coming out with at the old joke. He'd never drank from her directly, but she had given him her blood before.

With a grimace, she slid the blood slicked finger between his slack lips, the parchment paper feel of them making the tears threaten once more.

"Come on, Spike. You have to wake up so you can tell me who did this to you. It's ass kicking time, and I can't do that until you're back to your old charming self," she teased, as she rubbed her finger over his tongue. A smile bloomed on her face when he started to suck on the digit, the pressure light, but THERE. "Yeah, that's it. I got a whole mug of the stuff here, waiting for you." She pulled her finger free and redipped it, quickly moving it back to his searching mouth. "Course, if you eat it this way, you'll starve." She chuckled, then flinched, at the joke, realizing that he was indeed starving. She needed to get this into him faster, but aside from slitting her wrist again, she didn't know how. Then, a memory surfaced, and she got an idea. "I'll be right back," she told him, not waiting to see if he would answer, knowing he wouldn't. She put the mug down and sped into the kitchen, searching the cabinets until she found what she was looking for.

"Aha," she said in triumph, brandishing the bendable drinking straw like a sword. She then sped back to the living room, thanking the memory of Spike in Giles' tub, chained and forced to drink from a 'Kiss the Librarian' mug, just after the Initiative had chipped him.

She sat back down next to him, and put the straw into the blood, dipping her finger in again to coat the tip, then placing it between his lips. He immediately latched on and started to drink, reflex and instinct kicking in to make him take the sustenance. She was surprised he didn't vamp out, but she didn't dwell on it. He was eating, and that was enough to calm her nerves for the moment.

As he fed, she took the time to study him, her anger at whoever did this to him burning brighter. From what she could see above the blanket, he was pretty messed up, and she was loathe to see what lurked beneath the clothes. She could see faded, silvery scars on his neck and just under his hairline. A nearly faded bruise bloomed across his throat. His nose had been broken again, recently. His hair was grown out, and he had the look of a backwards skunk. It was matted, and dirty, and she just knew he was going to pissed about it when he woke up. He was the most vain vampire she knew, and his appearance being less than precise was going to tick him off. If he woke up.

With a frown, she pulled the now empty mug away, and put it back on the table. She then turned back to him, risking a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Spike, please wake up," she entreated, running a thumb along the sharp edge of his cheek. She saw his eyelids flutter, and plastered a bright smile on her face. "Hey," she said quietly, when those eyes opened a crack. It faltered briefly when she saw how dead they looked, how faded from the normal brilliant blue. She didn't see recognition in them, and that disturbed her more than she cared for it to.

She just kept smiling at him, her thumb never breaking its soothing rhythm, even as her anger threatened to consume her again. She gave a startled jump, when the hand she hadn't even realized had snuck out from under the blanket, circled a lock of her hair around his fingers.

"Gold," he rasped, the word harsh on his under used voice.

"What?" she asked softly, her brow scrunching into a frown. What did the color of her hair have to do with anything?

"Gold," he said again, his hand falling back to the blanket and his eyes drifting closed. Tears slid from her eyes as the second word he uttered reached her, and she nodded in agreement with him.

"That's right, Spike. You're home."

**  
Chapter 1**

"The subject escaped last night." The young scientist who had been volunteered to tell the Commander of the break out shivered with the cold fury that laced the statement. The man across the huge conference table turned away from the window he had been staring out of, and faced the younger man, his eyes frigid.

"Y-y-yes sir. It happened after feeding time." The scientist, whose name was Johnson, just barely managed not to shiver in fear. This man across from him was scary, in the 'blow up your babies because I was ordered to' type of way. He had been placed in charge of this particular facility because of his past dealings with the creatures they studied. In particular, the one that had escaped. The vampire had been almost like a pet project to the commander, and he was often present at the sessions. Johnson thought it odd that he would have so much personal interest in the creature, but he guessed it was because he was the one that got away. Hostile 17.

"I take it he played possum, and let you think he had fed on the drugged blood?" The commander walked around the table and stopped in front of Johnson, towering over the man by at least a foot. Cool blue eyes met brown, and the taller man cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

"Yes sir. He managed to surprise one of his guards and subdue him. He then used him as a shield to get out of the building," Johnson explained, bracing himself for the tirade.

"The behavior modification chip didn't activate?"

"Yes sir, it did. But it didn't seem to phase him." The commander nodded his head, and rested his hip on the table.

"That would make sense," he half mumbled.

"Sir?" He looked back up at Johnson, wondering again how this man became a scientist.

"After so many years of getting shocked, a wild animal will learn how to work around, or through, the pain. That is what Hostile 17 did. That was one of the reasons he was picked back up. He needed a stronger chip put in, and a few. . .modifications. Has the homing device been activated?"

"Er, y-yes sir." Johnson blinked at the change of subject, suppressing another shiver at the way the other man said 'modifications.' "He seems to have stopped in a residential area about an hour from here. That's why we haven't sent any troops out to retrieve him. We don't want to rouse the residents of the neighborhood." He explained quickly, hoping to forestall the explosion he was sure was coming. Confusion clouded his face when the commander merely threw his head back and laughed. "S-sir?"

The commander looked over at the confused and slightly terrified man, a smile still playing on his lips.

"Don't you see? He went home. To her." He started to chuckle again, and got up to walk back to the window. "Don't worry about sending out a retrieval team. I'll go myself with four soldiers," he said, dismissing the other man without another look. Johnson stared at the rigid stance of the commander for a minute, before it sunk in that he had been allowed to leave.

"Yes sir," he muttered briefly, before turning on his heel and escaping the room, wondering just what had made Riley Finn so vindictive towards Hostile 17.

~*~*~

By the time Willow and Xander showed up, Spike had gained consciousness twice more. He obediently latched onto the straw and drained the mug Buffy held each time, his dull eyes studying her, and his fingers playing in the ends of her hair.

As he drank his Slayer blood cocktail, she tried to ask him questions, but he was either too tired or too traumatized to speak again. She was frustrated, her need to pummel whoever had hurt him palpable. She didn't want to push him, however, so she switched to gossip, telling about the demons they'd encountered since he'd been gone, how Dawn's first year at U.S.C. was going, and the goings on in Willow's and Xander's lives.

He listened intently to her, his eyes trained on her face. After he'd drained his third mug of blood, she pulled it away and set it on the floor. When she looked back up at him, she noticed he was fighting to keep his eyes opened.

"It's okay, Spike. Go to sleep," she said softly, a small smile on her lips. He shook his head slightly, and his fingers clutched for hers desperately. Buffy took his hand and laced her fingers through his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere. You're home, remember?" He gave her a slow nod, his other hand coming up to touch the softness of her hair. "That's right. Now go to sleep. You're exhausted." He gave a small nod, and finally allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Buffy waited a few minutes before slowly moving her hand, her eyes watching his face to make sure he didn't wake up. When she was done, she stroked the brittle skin of his hand, reassuring herself that he was real, before getting up. She had just pushed to her feet to take the cup into the kitchen and clean it up for the next feeding, when Xander and Willow burst through the door.

"Oh, thank Goddess," Willow gasped, her eyes immediately searching for and finding the emaciated vampire. Those same eyes filled with tears once she saw him, and she paled. Buffy could sympathize, even though he looked tons better than he had, thanks to her blood being mixed in with the human blood she was feeding him.

"Well, Junior's back," Xander said, the snark of his words belied by the relief in his face.

"Come on. Let's go into the kitchen. He just went back to sleep," Buffy said quietly, moving past them. The two friends lingered a minute longer, making sure Spike was indeed really there, before turning to follow the Slayer.

"Has he said anything?" Willow asked, as soon as they entered the room. Buffy shook her head from where she stood by the sink. Her hands were fisted on the counter, her chin dipped to her chest as she fought the barrage of emotions that hit her.

"No. Not since the first time he woke up." She turned towards them when she was sure she was in control, Slayer mode firmly in place. She'd indulge in a good cry later. Now wasn't the time.

"What did he say?" Xander asked, sliding onto one of the stools at the table. Buffy sighed, and rubbed a tired hand over her brow.

"Nothing, really. He grabbed some of my hair, said 'gold', then 'home', then passed out again." She waved a hand in the air, then dropped it like a weight to her side. She felt helpless, and she hated feeling helpless.

"So, he thinks your hair is home?" Xander was beyond confused. So many months of looking for the vampire, wondering, worrying, and now he was back. And they had no idea WHERE he had been.

Buffy shot an annoyed look at her friend, then turned to pour herself yet another cup of coffee. A glance up at the clock told her five hours had passed since she found him on the porch. Sighing again, she turned and went to join the other two at the table.

"It's not her hair," Willow exclaimed, looking like she had found the cure for cancer. "It's the color. Gold. He used it as a symbol for home." When Buffy had called her at work, relief flooded through the redhead that Spike was back. That relief had deflated when she laid eyes on him, to be replaced with a simmering anger for whoever had done this to him. Her brain was struggling for something to latch onto, anything that would help her get past the shock of seeing her strong, cocky, self-assured friend, reduced to the near skeleton on the couch.

"He doesn't recognize me," Buffy said quietly, her voice wavering a bit with the words. Xander and Willow's eyes met, surprise evident on their features. If Spike would have recognized anybody, it damn sure would have been Buffy. He'd never said the words once she had been restored to earth, but all of them knew he was still in love with the Slayer.

"A-are you sure? I mean, he recognized your hair. He came here. That must mean something."

"What? That they should make 'Homeward Bound' with vamps instead of dogs?" Buffy snapped.

"And a cat," Xander inserted, ducking his head when both women glared at him. Willow placed a comforting hand over Buffy's and gave it a light squeeze. She wasn't angry that the Slayer had snapped at her, knowing it was born out of worry, not anger.

"Look, he's exhausted and malnourished. I'm sure as soon as he's filled up and slept out, he'll be fine. He took on a Hell God, after all, and lived to tell the tale."

"Yeah, repeatedly," the brunette muttered. The girls chose to ignore him that time. Buffy just shrugged a shoulder and offered the witch a tight smile.

The three friends lapsed into silence then, not knowing what to say, all thinking about the last night they had seen the vampire.

It had been Halloween of all nights, which meant all demons and the Slayer had the night off. The Scoobies had all converged at the Summers', Spike, of course, bringing the beer.

They'd sat around and talked, while Spike cleaned Xander out of his paycheck playing poker. The girls had ignored the good natured arguing between the males, and listened to the visiting Dawn talk about her latest crush. They'd gotten pleasantly buzzed, laughing about the demon that had crashed Anya and Xander's wedding, the ONLY one that hadn't been on the guest list, apparently.

Willow had then decided to shock them all by telling them she had met someone. After Tara left, the Hellmouth being too much for the sensitive girl, they'd all watched while the redhead seemed to fold into herself. It had been a year, and even though Willow had seemed to have gotten over it, they still figured it would be a good long while before she would even consider dating again. So, it had been a surprise to say the least.

Then, she had topped herself by revealing that it just happened to be a MALE someone. The room had fallen into a heavy silence as they all tried to digest the information. Then, Spike had slapped a hand against his leg, and said something about 'Pay up, whelp. Told you she was bisexual'. Xander groused loudly about losing even MORE money to the bleached blonde vamp. That had Buffy, Willow, Dawn and Anya dissolving into a fit of alcohol induced giggles.

The brunette had shot Willow a glare, and she'd managed to stutter out an apology.

It hadn't been long after that, that the party broke up. Xander and Anya had driven Dawn back to her dorm, and Spike had headed off to his crypt, his eyes lingering over the Slayer like they always did. Willow and Buffy had gone to bed, none of them knowing that by the next night, their very strange lives were going to take a turn for the stranger.

It had been 8 months, 1 week, and 3 days ago, that Buffy had stormed into the crypt, ready for a night of slaying with her favorite partner. The only thing she had found, were the signs of a struggle, and his bloodstained duster lying on the floor by the sarcophagus. When she had finally managed to breathe again, she'd snatched the leather off the floor and taken off at a full run to the Magic Box. Anya took one look at Buffy's stricken face, and the all too familiar duster clutched in her hand, and picked up the phone.

In less than an hour, the Scoobies were assembled and the search had begun. Only to be wound up at dawn, with nothing. It had been the same every night since then.

Calls to Giles in England and Angel in L.A. had garnered nothing as well. It was like Spike had just fallen off the planet.

Buffy refused to believe that any of the dust covering the crypt was Spike. She considered herself an expert on vamp dust, and NONE of it fit the bill. She'd wigged on her absent watcher, when after five months of no leads, he'd gently suggested that she give up. No, she'd said. Spike hadn't given up on her when she'd come back from heaven, therefore, she wasn't going to give up on him. She couldn't count the number of times the blonde had saved her form slitting her wrists, or just letting some random vamp drain her. She wouldn't let him down now.

Willow and Dawn had stood by her, their hope never faltering. Anya worried and helped, but she was always more able to see the possibility that Spike was gone for good. After a thousand years of wreaking vengeance, she could tell you, with a certainty, that total disappearance did not equal good. She wisely kept her opinion to herself for once. Besides, she really didn't want to say the words out loud.

Xander had been the only one who had doubted, and verbalized that doubt. Besides Giles. He'd spent two days trying to defrost the ice that had been shot his way by the trio on Revello Drive.

And now, as inexplicably as he had disappeared, the vampire had returned.

"Have you called Dawn yet?" Willow asked, plucking aimlessly at a paper napkin.

"Not yet," Buffy answered, staring down into the cooling contents of her cup. She didn't want her sister to be upset by Spike's state. "I will. The same time I call Giles and Angel. After the shock wears off."

"Do you think. . ." Xander started, hesitating because he knew he was about to become very unpopular, but he felt that SOMEBODY should be the voice of reason. "Do you think we should leave him like that?" Buffy stared at him quizzically, clearly not getting his meaning.

"I'll get him cleaned up when he can stay awake longer than five minutes at a time," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Buffy." Xander waited until she looked up at him again. "That's not what I meant. What if he doesn't come back to his senses?"

"Stop right there, Xander," the Slayer said, her hazel eyes turning to ice. Xander sighed and quickly apologized. He didn't like the idea any better than she did, but someone had to voice the unpleasant. Just once, he wished it would be someone else, so he could take a turn at being appalled at the suggestion.

They dropped into a tense silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

A loud crash from the living room had them bolting from the table. They skidded to a stop in the foyer, the sight of Spike writhing in the middle of the remains of the coffee table making their hearts stutter. His hands were fisted in his hair, and a silent scream twisted his face. They could see the ridges trying to form on his forehead, but he seemed to be forcing them back.

"We've got to get him off that table before he stakes himself," Buffy said, approaching the vampire cautiously.

"You want me to. . ." Willow raised her hand in the air, palm side up. Buffy gave a quick thanks to the powers that she had a witch for a best friend.

"Yeah. But not far. We don't want to freak him out more. Xander, when she lifts him, help me get the wood out from under him." Xander nodded and tensed his well honed muscles, preparing to spring and help clear away the danger. The two friends gave Spike a wide berth, and flanked him. Buffy nodded to Willow once they were ready, and the redhead began whispering, her eyes riveted to Spike.

As soon as he started to rise, Buffy and Xander hit their knees, frantically pulling the remnants of the table away, ignoring the splinters they got in their hands. The second it was cleared away, the Slayer motioned for him to be let down.

"Spike. SPIKE! Wake up." She grabbed his wrists and tried to pull them away from his hair. Giving up on that, she clasped his face, and forced him to look at her. She bit back the gasp at what she saw, concentrating on getting his eyes trained on her. Her heart broke when she saw the horror in his wide, unseeing eyes, and she forced him to focus on her. "SPIKE!"

A hand shot out of his hair and dove into hers, rubbing it roughly through his fingers.

"That's it, Spike. You're home. Nobody's going to hurt you here." She flinched a little in pain when he pulled his hand away form her gold tresses and grabbed Xander's, tears leaking from his gold flashing eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey. Easy on the 'do there, man," Xander said, keeping his voice light. He hissed when Spike snatched his hand away, his frightened gaze searching. Willow knelt beside him and clutched his grasping hand, bringing it gently to her hair. The whimper he let out nearly had their hearts shattering again. Emotion clutched their throats as he turned on his side and curled up into a ball, relief evident on his face.

Buffy curled up next to him, her fingers tracing over the lines of his face.

"Willow, could you get him some blood, please?"

"Sure." The redhead was off like a shot, tears pouring down her face.

"Xander, could you clear that wood out of here?"

"Yeah." The carpenter stood, his eyes lingering over the thin, frail form of the master vampire. He then took a deep breath and went to gather up the destroyed coffee table.

Buffy stayed on the floor, her eyes searching the now calm face of her friend. Anger began to burn anew as she allowed herself to acknowledge what she had seen when she had been talking to him. He'd vamped once, fully, the pain in his face immense. His lips had curled back with it for just a second, but it was long enough for the Slayer to see what had been done. His fangs had been removed.

Or, more to the point, broken off, and the sleeves they rested in must have been sewn shut, so that each time they tried to come out, the jagged edges would cut and tear the newly healed flesh, causing him excruciating pain. It had to have been done recently, since his vampire healing ability would have kicked in, and grown a new set.

"We'll find them, Spike," she whispered, anger and shock making her voice vibrate. "We'll find them."

~*~*~

"Angel?"

"Buffy? What's wrong?" Angel sat down at his desk, and smiled at the exiting Cordelia. He heard the shaky sigh his ex-girlfriend heaved, and knew immediately that it had to do with Spike.

"He's back," she replied, so quietly that if not for his enhanced hearing, he would have missed it. After all this time, he had been prepared to get the call that his childe was dead. He wasn't prepared for this, and his relief was crippling.

"Thank God," he gasped, a harsh chuckle following the sentiment. Who thanks God for the life of a soulless demon?

"Can you come?" Buffy asked, without further small talk.

"Buffy, I.. ."

"Please. You can bring Cordy and Connor. I don't care. Please. I think he's really going to need you." She finished in a rush, hating that she sounded like she was begging.

"I'm not so sure about that," Angel said, running a hand through his hair.

"Angel, please." Her voice was soft and pleading, her worry for the vampire thick. Angel sighed heavily, not really wanting to know how bad his childe was, if she was asking him for help. They didn't exactly go out of their way to see each other anymore. Too many bad memories.

"I'll see what I can do. Might take a couple of days," he warned, mentally ticking off the cases that HAD to be finished before he could leave, and the ones he could leave in the others' hands.

"Whenever you can. Thank you," Buffy said, then hung up.

Angel stared at the phone for a long minute, before replacing it on the cradle. He didn't look up when he heard the door open, knowing already that it was Cordelia.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly as she rounded the desk, and perched on the edge. He was silent a moment longer, not sure how to answer that question.

"He's back," he decided to say, feeling that said it all. "She thinks he's going to need me." Cordy's brows shot up in surprise at that.

"Wow. It must be bad if she said that. You and Spike aren't exactly the poster children for a happy family. More like the Hatfields and the McCoys." He chuckled at that, then sighed again. "Oh God, no, no, Mr. Broody vamp. This isn't your fault."

"I know that, Cordelia. I'm just. . ."

"Worried?" she supplied, picking up one of his hands from the desk, and holding it between her own.

"Yeah."

"Are you going?" she asked quietly her dark eyes searching his face. She already knew his answer. He nodded slowly, finally bringing his eyes up to hers.

"Want to go with me?" Cordy gave him a bright smile.

"I'll follow you anywhere in the world, Angel," she started.

"Except Sunnydale," he finished for her. He didn't blame her. It wasn't exactly his idea of a pleasure trip.

"That'd be about right." She looked at his sullen face for a second, then slid off the edge of the desk and into his lap. He immediately wrapped his arms around her to steady her. "I love you, you know?"

A smile bloomed on his face at that, and he leaned in to accept her kiss.

"I love you, too," he said, when he pulled back. "You'll hold down the fort?"

"Don't I always?" she asked, with her patented 'duh' expression. "If you need me, call."

"I always need you," he replied.

"Good. Now, are you going to take Connor?" Angel shook his head.

"No. I don't want him to see that side of me." He scrubbed a hand over his face, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, as opposed to your other vampy side?" she asked, arching a brow.

"It's one thing to see me in demon face. It another to see me deal with my childe. Rules are different."

"Angel, he's nineteen. He's dealt with having vampires for parents. Don't hide from him," she interrupted.

"No. Not this time. I'm not going to be able to deal with them at the same time," he said firmly, closing the subject. She rolled her eyes, but didn't press further. Angel had to get over this on his own. Connor knew what his father was, but he would never know who he was, until Angel stopped hiding his demon side from him.

"Alright. When are you leaving?" His brows shot up at her quick agreement, but decided not to question it. He sighed again, and gathered her closer.

"In a few days." She rested her cheek against his chest and nodded.

"That gives you just enough time to give me a proper goodbye," she said, smiling. Angel's own smile spread, and he tilted her chin up to look at her.

"Should I get started now?" he asked, his tone deceptively innocent. The heat in his eyes made her breathless.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely," she managed, before his mouth claimed hers, wiping all thoughts of Spike, Buffy and Sunnydale from her mind.

  
**Chapter 2**

You could have heard a pin drop when the tall, dark man stepped into the bar, and a collective, tense silence settled over the room. All eyes riveted to him, nervously waiting for what was about to happen. He was human, and in theory should not have been feared in this place. But one look at the long, muscular form, encased in well worn jeans, black t-shirt, and long, black duster, sent a shiver down the biggest demon's spine. He carried himself in a way that brought to mind stories of the old west and gunslingers. But instead of a leather holster slung low on his narrow hips with two six shooters at the ready, he had two nine millimeters strapped to his sides, one loaded with silver bullets, the other loaded with specially made wooden ones. A crossbow could be produced from the folds of his coat in less than a second, and a long, wicked looking knife was strapped to his calf, hidden by his boot.

His hair was long and inky black, his angular face hinted at his heritage. Cold eyes, the same shade as his hair stared out from beneath long, silky lashes. A cigarette dangled unlit from his full mouth, and a day's worth of dark stubble lined his jaw. Along the edge of that jaw, on the right side, was a thin, jagged scar, a testament to the fact that he was not invincible. A long-fingered hand cupped the end of his cigarette, shielding the flame from any breeze that might blow it out.

With a snap, the lighter closed, and he took a deep drag. It was then, he started to walk, the occupants of the bar half expecting to hear the jangle of spurs as he moved. He had the grace of a predator, and he was no less dangerous than any of the night creatures surrounding him. The demons knew who he was, loathed and feared him as they did the Slayer. In fact, the only difference between him and the Slayer was a simple badge the man carried. And if you weren't on his list, he left you alone. Unless you were fucking with him personally, and that was just foolishness.

He moved in an unhurried fashion, a confident swagger to his gait. The smoke he released from his lungs swirled around his head, forming a mock halo. The tiny man behind the bar watched him approach, his eyes nervously darting around the room. It was bad enough that the Slayer liked to crash in here whenever she wanted. Now, for the last eight months, he'd had this guy. Willy was surprised he was still in business.

"Now, listen, Mr. Lynch. I don't know anything, so you're wasting your time here," Willy said, starting to turn away. He squealed when he felt vice-like fingers grip his neck, and pull him back.

"Willy, is that any way to treat a customer?" Mark Lynch asked casually, his mild tone belaying the violence singing under his skin.

"Y-you want a drink, go to the Bronze." The little man stuttered, terror sliding through him. He shivered when the man chuckled, the sound not in the least pleasant.

"Don't want a drink and you know it. Where's the Slylock?" he asked, his deep voice commanding, and telling Willy not to try to hand him any of his shit.

"Do you know how bad it is for business to snitch out the customers?" Willy protested, whine threading into his voice. Mark sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Am I going to have to punch you?" He sounded annoyed at the prospect. He hated all this double dealing just to get a little information.

"I-I t-thought the Slayer was looking for the Slylock," the bartender tried to hedge.

"Slayer's taking the night off. I was asked to fill in. Now, where is the goddamned demon? Maybe I'll leave this dump in one piece." He was tired of playing, Willy could hear it in his voice.

"Punch me," he whispered, fear of the pain coating each word. Mark sighed again, but did so, the movement quick and sure. Willy howled in pain, and grabbed his nose, blinking back the tears that sprang to his eyes.

"In the back," he gasped, stumbling when Mark released him.

"Thanks, Willy. Always a pleasure." The smile that split the dark face was pleasant, and he slapped a companionable hand on the smaller man's back.

"Fuck you," Willy said, grabbing a towel to staunch the bleeding. Mark chuckled and walked towards the back, his skin itching with the anticipation of a fight. He slowed as he neared the door, tilting his head, and listening. Voices drifted out to him, speaking in a multitude of dialects, only one or two he understood. He recognized the words 'joker' and 'wild', and grinned.

"Looks like I'm going to be liberating some kittens tonight," he said to himself, snorting. He reached out and clasped the doorknob, prepared to burst into the room. It wouldn't take long for them to realize he was there, and he wanted to get in before his target had a chance to bolt. He counted to three in his head, then swung the door open, a huge grin on his handsome face.

"Hello, boys. Miss me?" he asked, yanking out his crossbow and holding it in a deceptively relaxed position at his side. The six demons that had been playing poker were staring at him, each wondering if they had prices on their heads. "Now, everybody except," he trailed off, his eyes touching each demon, until he reached the one he was after, "you, can leave." The others didn't need more encouragement than that, and soon the scraping of chairs sliding back and the pounding of feet was all that was heard.

Only one remained, besides the Slylock. A vampire, who looked like a reject from a discoteque. He eyed Mark with bloodlust, and wondered just what the hell the others were running from.

"Excuse me, I said leave," Mark said, his voice low and menacing. The crossbow twitched in his hand, indicating he had an itchy trigger finger.

"I don't run from humans," the vampire spat, rising to his feet. Mark regarded the creature, sneering at the light blue lounge suit, white wing tips, and greasy black hair.

"You should run from me." Mark told him, a nasty smile splitting his lips. He was speaking to the vampire, but his attention never left the slimy, green demon still seated at the table. The thing's two mouths were gaping open in surprise, and its yellow, pus-colored eyes never left the man in front of him. The fine, dark hairs on his arms prickled with fear, and his scales were turning a dingy brown color.

"You're not the Slayer," the vampire growled, tensing to lunge. Mark rolled his eyes, and quicker than a blink raised his arm and released a bolt straight into the heart of the obnoxious demon. The vampire had the nerve to look at the bolt in surprise, the second before he exploded into dust.

"Vampires," Mark muttered, with a glance up at the heavens. He then brought his cold gaze back to the Slylock demon. "Now, as for you." He reached out and pulled a chair to him, turning it, then straddled it to sit down. "The Slayer wants you to move your nest. It's too close to the construction site and your wife has attacked a couple of the workers. Now, she understands it's because of the noise and she's just protecting her eggs, but the Slayer's duty is to the human population first," he explained, placing the crossbow within easy reach on the table.

"I am sssory. Mrina isss a bit tessty right now," the Slylock explained, shuffling the cards he was holding nervously in his hands.

"I know. But she can't go around breaking people's bones because they're doing their jobs. Now, one of the Slayer's friends works on that site, and deal or no deal, he gets hurt and Mrina's going to find herself in a shitload of trouble. Alright?" The Slylock nodded and started to rise. "Maybe she'd be a bit less testy if you stayed home with her, instead of hanging out and playing cards with the boys," Mark suggested, giving the demon a pointed look.

"Yesss. You are right." The corners of his two mouths lifted in what Mark guessed what a sheepish smile.

"Alright then. I can tell the Slayer you'll be moving?"

"Yesss. Right away." The demon then moved around the table, nodding its massive head in farewell. Mark chuckled and grabbed his crossbow off the table, listening to the slight squishing noise the creature made as it left.

"Offering marriage advice to the demon populace? Who knew you had so many hidden talents." The soft, lightly teasing voice caused a wide, genuine smile to spread across his mouth. He turned to face its owner, casually tucking the weapon back into its hiding place as he did so.

"Yeah, well, maybe I should start a column," he replied, walking over to the tiny redhead, his eyes running appreciatively over her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, leaning down and kissing her gently.

"Had to pick up some blood. Saw all the dumbfounded looks out there, and just knew you had to be here," Willow told him, before stepping into his arms.

"Blood? Last batch go bad?" Mark asked, pulling back to look down at her. He saw the sadness that always seemed to be in her eyes, and sighed. When he first showed up in town, almost nine months ago, searching for a vampire that owed some money to a man Nevada, he'd stumbled across this woman. He'd been at the Bronze, waiting for his prize when he saw her walk in. To Mark, it had seemed as if everything else had melted away, and there were only the two of them in the crowded bar. She'd glanced his way, and he could have sworn she felt it too. But then, she had turned away and walked to the bar, never looking back at him. He'd nursed his beer for a few minutes, gathering the courage to go talk to her, when he saw the vampire. He was currently talking to the girl who had so enraptured Mark, and that angered the brunette beyond reason. He started to push his way through the club, cursing when the pair made it outside before he could reach them.

As quickly as he could, he burst through the throngs of people and out the door, his gun resting comfortably in his hand. He turned and stalked down the alley, hoping beyond hope that he found them before she died. When he did find them, he stumbled to a stop, shock freezing him in place. The tiny little redhead was standing in the middle of the dark alley, a cloud of vampire dust billowing in the air in front of her. No weapon was in sight, save for her raised hand. She'd whirled on him when he called to her, and for the briefest of seconds, he saw that her eyes were pure black. He blinked, and when he looked back at her, they were clear green. She'd walked over to him, eyeing his gun nervously, until he put it away and introduced himself.

She'd smiled and did the same, then turned to leave. She stopped when he asked if he could see her, a slight blush staining her cheeks, and hesitancy in her eyes. Then, after a moment's consideration, she nodded, telling him to meet her there the next night.

It had been a week after that, that she had told him of their friend's disappearance. It only took her another week to admit that friend was a vampire. By then, he had told her of his profession, and offered to use his resources to help find him. That's when he met the rest of the Scoobies. And the Slayer.

Always having been a loner, it was odd for him to witness the way they worked so fluidly together. He was shocked when he met Buffy and calculated her age. He mumbled something about her being a little old, to which she smiled and told him she'd died twice. He'd managed to say she looked good for a twice dead person. She'd laughed, barely hiding her worry for the vampire in her eyes. The other Scoobies accepted him fairly well, even though he sensed it was mainly because of what he did. Which made it hard for him to understand why they were looking for a vampire, and the reason was NOT to kill him. Dawn had taken it upon herself to tell him why, and when she was done, Mark found himself impressed. This Spike was one hell of a character.

And so was his Willow. It didn't take him long to fall for her, and decide Sunnydale was as good a place as any to set up shop. He hadn't regretted a minute of it.

"No, not bad," she answered, plucking at a string on his shirt.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing should be wrong, but. . ." She stumbled to a stop, her eyes filling with tears.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, tilting her chin up so she would look at him again. She took a deep breath, and let it go.

"He's back." Mark blinked, wondering if he heard her right.

"He's back?"

"Yeah. Just showed up at Buffy's this morning. That's why she needed you to do this. She's taking care of

him." The way she said it, told Mark the vampire didn't show back up unscathed.

"How bad?" he asked, running a soothing hand over her back.

"He's so thin, and he has bruises and scars all over his neck and face. We haven't seen what's been done to his body yet. And. . .his fangs." She whispered that last part, still not wanting to believe what had been done.

"What happened to his fangs?"

"They were broken off. And the flaps. . .they were sewn shut. Every time he vamps, it hurts him so bad." Tears leaked from her eyes, just as they did when Buffy told her and Xander after they had gotten him back on the couch.

Mark grimaced in sympathy, while a memory struggled in the back of his mind to come to light. Something that happened when he'd been in Brazil, about three years ago. He couldn't seem to get it to come to the forefront, but he thought it was important. He fought with it for a minute, before putting it aside to think about later.

"Did he say what happened?"

"No, he can't or won't speak. He has said a couple of words to Buffy, but nothing about what happened to him," she answered, resting her cheek against his chest. She inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the smell of tobacco, soap and sandalwood. After Tara had left, she didn't know if she would ever fall in love again. She certainly hadn't expected it, and CERTAINLY hadn't expected it to be a man. But, when Mark looked at her, it was like she was the most important person in the world, and it made her feel like she could take on anything. He was a mix of Oz and Tara, with just the right amount of Spike thrown in. He was beautiful, inside and out, and he was hers.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered into her hair, placing a gentle kiss on top. She smiled, and closed her eyes, taking a minute to be girly, before she had to go back to the house and help Buffy.

"Angel's coming," she said softly.

"That's good, right? He should be able to help Spike." Mark had met Angel once, when he and Willow had gone to LA to take some books of Giles' to Wesley.

"I hope so. I don't know. He's so out of it. Xander thinks we should stake him if he doesn't come out of it." Mark made a noncommital noise, not sure what to say to that. In his profession, he didn't make emotional attachments to those he hunted, but this was different. He understood and respected what Xander had said. Even agreed with it. But, it wasn't his decision, or his place.

"What did Buffy say? Or do I need to ask?" She giggled a bit, and he was happy he could make her laugh.

"No, you don't. She's determined to get him well so she can beat up whoever did this to him." Mark chuckled at that, liking the way the Slayer thought.

"Well, then, let's get that blood back to the house. I'm always up for a good ass kicking. And Willy's probably more than ready for me to leave." She giggled again and then sighed, stealing herself for going back.

"Okay," she said simply, pulling out of his arms and walking out of the room. He followed her, his expression a cold, hard mask, warning all in the place that he wouldn't tolerate anybody bothering the lady. It was a pointless effort, since none there wanted to mess with the witch anymore than they wanted to mess with him or the Slayer, but it made Mark feel all manly.

After Willow had bought the blood, and paid Willy, she turned and left the bar, knowing Mark would follow. She never did any public displays of affection when they were around demons, knowing Mark didn't want to lose his edge around them. And she didn't mind. He more than made up for it when they were alone, or just sitting around with their friends.

Once they were outside, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. They then turned together and walked into the night, destination, Revello Drive.

  
**Chapter 3**

  
Spike's eyes snapped open with a start and wildly searched the room. Recognition was there, but couldn't be comprehended as he searched, looking for her. Pictures and words threaded around his brain, making him whimper in fear. He needed. . .home, he was home. That's what she said. Gold said he was home, he told himself frantically.

Evil, stupid vampire. She'll never love you. None of them will. Spike squeezed his eyes shut when these words looped through his head, and tried to push them away. _You're nothing but a convenience for them. You're SOULLESS. No use to them. Only a matter of time before they stake you. Nobody wants you. Not your sire, not Druscilla, and certainly NOT her_. *SHUT UP!* he screamed mentally, trying to draw the colors around him. The colors would block out the voice and make the pain stop. S _he could never love you. One day, they'll wake up and just kill you. Because you're NOTHING. Not a man, not a vamp. In fact, you're too pitiful to kill. Why waste the energy? You'll just wake up one day, and they'll all be gone. Because, they all leave you, don't they Spike? One day, you'll be alone_.

Spike flinched as phantom pain accompanied these words. White hot pain that made him scream, pain that ripped through the blanket of colors and made him hear the words again.

 _You can't feed, can't hunt. What do you need these for_? That question had been followed by the worst agony Spike had felt yet.

*Nonononononono!* his mind screamed, and he was rolling off the couch onto the floor, tucking into a ball to try to avoid the imagined blows and electric shocks. Burns, burns were the worst, because they lingered, they sang under his skin driving him half mad.

Quiet, he had to be quiet. They'd forget about him if he was quiet. Don't talk, don't scream. Cease to be, and they'll leave you alone. No, don't want to be alone. Always alone. The colors, colors. Make it stop, makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop. Gold, he needed gold. She would help him.

Spike blindly pushed up onto his hands and knees and tried to clear his mind, so he could find her. The harsh words kept buzzing in his ear, making it hard for him to concentrate. *Talk, call her, she'll come,* he told himself. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. *Shut up, they'll hear, they'll come.*

The vampire sobbed in confusion. He wanted Gold to come, but not them. But they weren't here, Gold promised. She'd said nobody would hurt him here.

With tears coursing down his thin cheeks, he started forward, fear a living thing under his skin. He crawled slowly through the living room, eyes not seeing his surroundings, ears trying desperately to find her. His sensitive nose picked up a scent, a scent he recognized. Moving a little quicker now, he entered the foyer, ignoring the pain in his knees as he went. Everything hurt if he stopped to think about it, and that wasn't an option. Had to go, had to keep moving. Had to find her. Spike grabbed the door frame to the dining room and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain again. *Ignore it, don't think about it,* he ordered himself, nearly sinking back to his knees.

He stumbled through the living room, grabbing the chairs to help him along. Everything, everything hurt. And he was dirty, could feel the dirt caking his skin, his hair. He was a filthy, ugly beast. _MONSTER_. He shook his head, trying to dispel the word from his brain. No, he was home, Gold said so, Gold said so.

There, voices in the kitchen. He forced himself forward and caught a glimpse of the person in the kitchen. Not Gold. It was Red. But Red was good too, Red meant home too. She was gentle and could take the pain away with a whisper. He wished she was Gold, but Red was good too.

One more staggering step, and he was in the kitchen.

"Spike. You shouldn't be up," Willow said lightly, moving to take his grasping hand. She had been making tea and putting the blood away, when she'd turned to seen him standing in the doorway. He looked so skinny and lost, so vulnerable. She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes, and took his hand, bringing it to her hair. It was then that he noticed the other person in the room.

Spike's wild eyes landed on Mark, and terror slammed into him. Somebody he didn't know, he would take him back, back to the bad place. Spike stumbled back, unwittingly pulling some of Willow's hair, and landed hard on his butt. Mark didn't move, realizing the vampire was afraid of him.

"Spike, it's alright. This is Mark." Willow tried to soothe, crouching down to his level and talking softly. Spike just started to scramble backwards, away from the stranger. He didn't stop until his back hit a chair. He whimpered when he realized he was trapped, and crossed his arms over his face, trying to protect himself. "Mark. Go outside and get Buffy," Willow told him, keeping her voice even. She crawled slowly to Spike, half listening to Mark get up and head out the back door to get the Slayer. Buffy was outside talking to her sister, trying to prepare the girl for what Spike had turned into.

"Spike, it's okay. It's Willow. See?" She gently pried one of his hands away from his face and brought it up to her hair again. He looked around blindly, searching for the danger. "He's not here to hurt you," she told him, reaching out to take his other hand. "Remember the night you. . .left? When I said I'd met someone? Well, that's the someone. His name is Mark Lynch. He's a lot like us." She didn't think saying the words 'demon hunter' was a good idea right now. She also didn't like reminding him of that night, but she hoped reminding him of the party would spark something inside. Something happy.

Spike's eyes shot to the door when he heard it open, relief so evident on his face that it nearly broke Willow's heart all over again. He pulled his hands away from Willow and scurried across the floor to the outstretched arms of the Slayer. Gold. Her.

"It's alright Spike. You're alright," Buffy whispered, letting him half fall into her lap. She pulled him into her arms and held on while silent sobs wracked his body. His fingers clutched desperately at the cotton of her tank top, his face buried in her stomach. Her scent, so achingly familiar, filled his nose and he started to calm. She kept whispering softly to him, barely looking up when the door opened again. She knew it would be Dawn and Xander. Mark had decided to stay outside until they calmed the vampire down.

She glanced up at the pair as they walked around her, her sister's face stricken. She offered her a tight smile, then looked back down at Spike.

"Spike, Dawnie's here." She motioned for the girl to come closer, hoping she wouldn't make it worse. But Spike had seemed comforted by the three adults, or their hair more to the point. There was no reason for her to think he wouldn't associate Dawn with home as well. The young woman didn't need to be asked twice, and she lowered herself next to them.

"Spike? It's Dawn," she said, hating the tremor in her voice. Buffy pried one of Spike's hands away from her shirt and brought it to the girl's hair, helping him rub his fingers over it. He turned his head and peered at her with wide, blue eyes. His hand fisted around the lock of hair he held, the fourth color. His fractured mind recognized it, and it finally hit him, he was home. All the colors were here. They were here, and they'd keep him safe.

Mark silently let himself back in, his eyes falling on the group just inside the dining room. Spike was draped across Buffy, his hand buried in Dawn's hair. Willow and Xander flanked them, each touching him in some way, forming a shield around the vampire. He recognized they were trying to save him from the horrors in his mind, trying to make up for not protecting him eight months ago. The guilt and anguish was evident on all their faces, their eyes filled with sorrow at the sight of their broken friend.

With a sigh, Mark let himself back out, finding that the cigarette he'd just had wasn't enough.

~*~*~

"Are you okay, now?" Buffy asked, tucking the blanket back around Spike's shoulders. He looked at her quizzically for a moment, as if trying to decipher her words. She smiled when he finally nodded, smoothing a hand over his hair. She blinked in surprise when he jerked away from her touch. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said, confused. He shook his head, and fought to get a hand out from under the blanket. Once he did, he opened his hand, palm up. She looked at it, trying to see past the cross shaped scar in the middle. "What is it? The scar?" He shook his head again, and stressed his hand again. "Sorry, Spike. The only other thing I see is dirt. Oh, the dirt. You want to take a bath?" He nodded, blinking back the tears that filled his eyes. "Okay. Try to sleep some more, then Xander will help you get cleaned up, okay?" He looked a little hesitant at first, but then nodded. "Good. Get some rest," she urged, returning her hand to his hair and stroking lightly, ignoring him when he tried to avoid her touch.

"Spike, I walk around in graveyards at midnight. A little dirt doesn't bother me," she said, her voice teasing. He settled down after that, and let his eyes close. She waited a minute before getting up and going into the kitchen to join the others. She suppressed a sigh when she saw Dawn, sitting at the table, her face in her hands and sobbing. Willow had her arm around the girl, trying to calm her. Mark and Xander were sitting on either side of her, looking at a loss.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize he'd freak if he saw me," Mark said to her as she crossed to the coffee pot. She'd drank enough coffee today to float a ship, and now she was drinking more.

"It's alright. We didn't expect him to move off the couch. He seems to be understanding better now. Can answer simple questions. I don't want to push him about where he was until Angel gets here," she told them, talking around her sister's tears. It wasn't that she didn't care about Dawn being upset, she just couldn't stop, or else she'd be sitting right alongside her, hysterically sobbing herself. "Xander, when he wakes up again, can you help him get in the bath?" she asked, turning to face them. The brunette nodded, his eyes trained on the table.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Dawn asked, bringing her tear reddened eyes to her sister.

"I hope so. This is Spike. It takes a lot to take him down," Buffy said, hoping her voice sounded more positive than she felt. She gripped her mug and stared into the dark contents, grimacing before taking a sip.

"Do you think maybe we should talk to him? Remind him of things that have happened. Good things, so that, maybe he'll remember us. O-other than our hair. Like, I could tell him how he took me to the prom, and made me the envy of the Senior class." Dawn brightened at that idea, and looked at Buffy for permission. The blonde smiled and nodded.

"I don't think it could hurt. Nothing bad. No reminders of Glory, or where he's been. And definitely no reminders of me jumping off that tower," she finished with a shudder. Spike considered her having to jump his biggest failure, and she didn't think it was something he needed to hear, yet. Hopefully, his memories would return on their own, soon. Hopefully.

"Do you mind if I go sit with him?" the younger Summers asked, hope glimmering in her azure eyes.

"No, go ahead. Let us know when he wakes up again. He's kinda freaked out with how dirty he is."

"You know, for a guy that lives in a crypt, that's kinda funny," Xander said with a snort. Buffy rolled her eyes, but really couldn't argue.

"Thanks," Dawn said, wiping away her tears with her hands and getting up to leave.

"What do we do?" Willow asked, walking over to Mark and leaning into the arm he held out.

"I don't know. I'll call Giles, see if he has any ideas, then I guess we wait for Angel. He should be here in a couple of days," she said. They'd already been through the books they had at her house, and had even called Anya to see if she knew anything about vampires and their reactions to torture. Nothing. They all knew how to kill a vampire, but there didn't seem to be anything to tell them how to heal one.

"Do," Willow started, her eyes worried. "Do you think we should try to find Druscilla?"

"No!" Buffy answered, not believing Willow would suggest such a thing. "Don't you remember what happened the last time she showed up? He was inside a bottle for a month." Druscilla had breezed back through Sunnydale about a year before, causing trouble and trying to become the new master of Sunnydale. She'd kidnapped Dawn in an attempt to get Spike to join her again. He'd gone, making them all think he had turned back to his old ways. When Buffy had stormed into the vampiress' lair, she'd resolved herself to staking him if she had to, but was relieved to see that it had all been a ruse. She found him, next to a terrified Dawn, lying in a pool of blood. After they had gotten him home and bandaged, she'd tried to find out what happened from him. He'd told her, none too nicely, to get out. Then, he'd cracked open a bottle of JD and stayed there. Dawn told her later that Druscilla had a done a good job of messing with his head, making him believe he had killed Dawn and Buffy, even Joyce. Didn't matter that their mother had been gone for the better part of three years by then. She'd made him believe it, not realizing her antics were going to turn him against her, instead of bringing him back. Even then, he couldn't kill her. The stake he had lunged at her with wound up imbedded in the middle of her chest, nowhere near her heart. He'd told her to get out of Sunnydale, and to never come back, or he WOULD kill her.

Then, with Dawn screaming at him that she was alright, he'd turned a stake on himself, convinced he had killed three of the people that had mattered most to him. Luckily, she had reached him in time, and instead of his heart, the point jammed into his shoulder.

"I j-just thought she might be able to help. With her being all psychic and all." Buffy shook her head again.

"No," she said with finality, not even wanting to consider dealing with Druscilla. "She'd only make him worse. Angel's better. He's Spike's sire." That seemed to put an end to it. Willow nodded, and didn't say anything else about it.

"So, we wait. What if whatever had him tries to find him?" Xander asked. Buffy looked at each of her friends, her hazel eyes hot with anger.

"We don't let them," she answered simply, turning and putting her cup in the sink, then striding out of the kitchen, leaving the others to figure out just how they were supposed to that, when they didn't even know WHAT they were fighting.

~*~*~

With a tired sigh, Riley Finn let himself into his apartment, giving himself fifteen minutes to get what he needed together. As he moved around the barren living space, he found himself falling into memories of when he was younger and weaker. He'd been blinded by love. Love for a woman who hadn't been worthy of it. She'd been tainted before he met her, and he figured it was his youth and inexperience that didn't allow him to see it. She was the Slayer, a warrior of light, who seemed to have a soft spot for the things she was supposed to be slaying. Well, two in particular. And they just happened to be Sire and Childe. And the banes of his existence.

He'd given up everything for her. His career, his life. Everything. And she'd tossed it all back at him like so much garbage. All because of Hostile 17. If he hadn't brought her to that house, she never would have known.

No, no regrets. Because if she had never found out, he would probably have stayed in Sunnydale, instead of going to Brazil and remembering who he was. What he was. He was a soldier, a soldier in the fight against evil. She may have forgotten that once evil, always evil. But he hadn't. He never would.

He'd spent two years in Brazil, fighting demons, exterminating them like the vermin they were, when the orders came through for him to be transferred. He'd resisted at first. He didn't care about the promotion, the increase in the pay, or the fact that he would get to go back to California. He wanted to stay in Brazil, or go somewhere else and continue what he had been doing. But, his choice soon became take the transfer, or be released from duty. That wouldn't do. So, he'd taken it and became the new Commander at the Initiative-like facility.

He really hadn't been interested in the scientific study of demons. He'd already been through that with Maggie Walsh. And her failure had been a part of why he had lost everything. He was interested in their termination, not putting in little devices that kept from causing harm. They were an abomination, and they had to be destroyed.

Riley had followed the stuttering head scientist around, bored out of his mind, and not really paying attention. Until they went into the detention area. That's where he found the one that had been instrumental in his downfall. Hostile 17. William the Bloody. Spike. He had been there three months, and was still as brash and smart mouthed as ever. He'd taken one look at Riley, and started mouthing off, about Buffy, about Sunnydale. About how he had been there to help her fight off a Hell God, while Finn was out in the wilds of Brazil, running like a pup with his tail between his legs. How the Slayer and her crowd called him friend. And boy would Goldilocks be pissed when she found out White Bread was behind this.

It had been Riley's pleasure to take on this case personally.

Spike had been a challenge from the start. Strong and resilient, smart and not easily intimidated, even with the chip in his head. He was one of the more clever demons the scientists had come across, and they didn't really know how to deal with him. Riley did. Breaking him would be his best accomplishment. And most rewarding.

The fact that the vampire had managed to escape didn't surprise the soldier in the least. In fact, he had been expecting it. It had happened once, and Spike was a survivor. Of course, it was stupid of him to head straight back to Sunnydale. But, he was half out of his mind when he fled.

"Well, just going to have to go get him," Riley said to himself, zipping up his duffle bag, then slinging it over his shoulder. "And if Buffy gets in my way, well. . .that just wouldn't be very beneficial for her." He gave one last glance around the apartment, before shutting the door, his chuckle echoing behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 4**

With a deep sigh, Buffy slid onto one of the stools at the table in the kitchen. Finally, it was quiet, and she could hear herself think again. Xander was upstairs with Spike, helping the skittish vamp get into the bath. Willow and Mark had left, taking Dawn to drop her off at her dorm, despite the girl's protests. For the first time since Willow started spending all her time at Mark's, and her sister had started school, Buffy found herself longing for the silence of a mostly empty house.

Not that she didn't want Spike back. In fact, he was a lot of the reason she wanted them all gone. It had too much of a feeling of a death house with all of them hanging around, much like it did after her mother died. But this time, there were no dead bodies. Well, alright, no unanimated corpses, and she couldn't take the somberness anymore. She felt that she might scream from it, and had happily shut the door behind her friends. Now, all she had to do was get Xander out, then she could settle in for the night.

With a half crazed vamp that didn't remember anything about her, except her hair.

The Slayer rubbed the heels of her hands over her tired eyes, willing the headache away. Memories wrapped around her like a blanket, showing her a different time, when Spike was whole. He had been the first person she had seen when she'd woken up, cold and confused, on top of her gravesite. He'd been heading home after making sure Dawn was safely tucked in for the night and the witches had locked all the doors and windows. Apparently, he made it a habit of stopping by her grave every night to tell her about Dawn and anything else that struck his mind.

She didn't know who was more surprised when he drew up short, the most beautiful look of love, anguish, and disbelief on his face. He'd gulped, she remembered it clearly, because she thought about it later and had wondered why a vampire would feel the need to gulp, and took a shaky step closer. Buffy herself had been too disoriented to say anything, and tried hard to figure out how she had gone from being warm and safe and with her mother, to lying on top of a grave, cold and scared, with Spike.

When he'd reached her, he'd slipped his coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders, too stunned to speak, but aware enough to notice her shivering. She hadn't said a word, just stared at him, wondering idly why she had ever thought he couldn't feel. It was all there, written on his face.

"Let's get you home, shall we?" he said, holding out a hand to her. She took it, feeling a shift inside. Almost as soon as their skin touched, she felt a connection, something she couldn't describe or put a name to, but it was there. She thought he might have felt it too, thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. But then he was pulling her up to her feet and sliding a cool arm around her waist to help support her, and started to walk. It only took a few stumbling steps for him to sweep her up in his arms, and carry her back to the house. A part of her, a part she recognized as the person she had been before she'd jumped, had demanded she protest and make him put her down. The larger part, the part that was tired, and confused, and afraid, had just snuggled down into the warmth of the duster, strangely comforted by the smell of cigarettes, and whiskey, and the strength of the arms holding her.

She didn't remember closing her eyes, or ever feeling so relaxed while on Earth. He moved so smoothly, so quietly, it just seemed natural for her to allow her eyes to shut, and to just forget. When she felt him hesitate, and his arms tighten ever so slightly, she opened them again, and looked to see what was wrong. All she saw was her house. And an almost paralyzing fear had gripped her.

She knew once that door opened, and the people inside saw her, she would have to go back to what she was. She had been so happy where she was, and Spike was doing a good job of recreating that feeling. But, the powers had decided she wasn't done, and the short rest she'd had was enough. It was time to go back and take up the sword once more.

They'd looked at each other then, a silent understanding between the creatures who should have been mortal enemies. He'd put her down and taken his coat back, fighting back the urge to gather her back up and protect her from the only world she had known for the last five years.

He didn't walk with her to the house, knowing his presence wouldn't be appreciated. He just stood at the foot of the walk, watching her as she walked away. Buffy fought the overwhelming urge to run with every step, wanting nothing more than to go back to Spike and beg him to take her away, away from this brightly colored life that only harbored pain. But she didn't, and soon she was at the door, tears glistening in her eyes at what she'd had to give up for the world. Again.

Much later, after she had knocked, and had been pulled into the house amongst tears and grasping arms, the door closing on the vampire without a backwards glance, and Xander had been called, she'd stolen away to her room. They'd let her go, thinking she was just traumatized after spending the last five months in a Hell dimension, and just needed some time alone. She didn't correct them.

Once she'd gotten into her room and looked at the things that she didn't seem to recognize anymore, she'd walked to the window and looked out. She found herself looking down at the tree just below, a single tear slipping down her cheek when she saw that distinctive orange glow in the darkness. She'd pressed her hand against the window, and leaned into it.

"Thanks Spike. For watching out for her. Goodnight," she had said. Lingered a minute longer, then turned away to go to bed, comforted in the knowledge that he would be there all night.

And had been, every night, until eight months ago.

"Buffy." She jumped at the sound of Xander's rough voice, not realizing how deep she had been in memory.

"Yeah," she said, turning to face him. She frowned at his stricken look, and stood up.

"What's the matter?" she asked, taking a step towards him. He seemed speechless and could only wave a hand in the direction of the stairs, unshed tears shining in his eyes. "Is it Spike?" He nodded once and cleared his throat.

"God, Buffy. His chest. His back. And his. . ." He couldn't find the words, and swallowed hard. "You need to come up," he finished, then turned away. With a sense of foreboding weighing down on her chest, the Slayer followed, bracing herself for what she would see.

Spike sat in the bathtub, his knees tucked up to his chest and his head resting on his arms. He looked up when they walked in, pain and fear glazing his eyes. Buffy stuttered to a stop at just the sight of his arms. Deep, purple bruises marred the pale flesh that had been hidden by the medical scrubs. Just along his collarbone was a bright red gash, extending from one shoulder to the next, making it look like they had tried to cut off his head, but had miscalculated where to cut.

"Hey, Spike. Need a little help?" He looked ashamed and dropped his eyes before nodding. "Okay. Xander, go downstairs and get the medical kit." Xander nodded and left the room, pulling the door slightly shut behind him. Buffy then turned back to Spike and took a bolstering breath, before walking over to the tub. "Well, this isn't too embarrassing, is it?" she asked sinking to her knees. Spike gave a short nod, never looking up at her.

Buffy busied herself by grabbing the washcloth and picking up the anti-bacterial wash she kept in there, just in case she got a nasty injury on patrol, and squirted a good amount on the terry cloth. Finally, when she couldn't put it off anymore, she raised her eyes to his back, and bit back the gasp that tried to escape.

Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of three open wounds, which looked suspiciously like stake holes, one evidently aimed for his heart. The edges were partially healed, but they hadn't closed. That told her they were relatively new. When she leaned a little closer, to gingerly clean them, she realized the flesh inside had been burned. Buffy didn't even want to contemplate by what. Several criss-crossing marks slashed his back, the burns red and bubbled. Some were in the shapes of crosses, others were just random spray patterns.

Fighting back the anger and sickness that rose from just seeing these atrocities, she gently washed them, picking out the pieces of his shirt and dirt. Underneath the back of his hair, the skin was raw and red, from where it had peeled away. They must not have allowed him to get clean, because she saw the same thing behind his ears, and under his neck. She could clearly see the outline of his bones through his ashen skin, his once sturdy frame painfully fragile now. She worked as quickly as she could, hoping her touch was soothing to the vampire.

With a grimace, she looked down at the water and decided it was time to change the murky liquid.

"Spike, scoot back, so I can drain this and get some fresh, okay?" She didn't think he heard her at first, and was about to say it again, when the water sloshed to indicate his movement. He didn't spread out his limbs, just shuffled back as far as he could, so she could reach the stopper.

"Here you go," Xander said, walking back into the bathroom, just as she restarted the water.

"Thanks, Xan. Look, why don't you go ahead home. I'll be alright with Spike," she told him, turning to look at the brunette.

"Are you sure you should be alone?"

"We'll be fine. Go on. Tell Anya I said hi."

"Will do. Spike. Glad you're back," Xander said, looking in the vampire's wide eyes. He then turned and left, walking back down the stairs and into the night, making sure the door was locked behind him.

"Well, it's just you and me now. So, what shall we talk about?" She looked at him for a second, trying to get him to look up, but he had turned his face away when Xander left. "Right. Guess I'll pick. Uhm, do you want me to tell you some about your life? Or unlife, I guess." She waited a minute, reaching out and pulling one of his arms to her. She leisurely washed it, using long strokes. After a second, he nodded slowly, causing his damp hair to fall in his eyes. "All right. Hmm, let's see." She switched arms, trying to think of something happy, so he wouldn't be reminded of what happened to him, and trying NOT to think that when she was done with his upper torso, she had to take care of the rest. She concentrated on his arms for the moment, ignoring the scabbed over knees, pretending she didn't see just the barest hint of bone through the lacerated flesh.

"Okay, there was this one time, I guess it was about two years ago, we decided we needed a night off. All of us. And so, of course that meant a trip to the Bronze. Well, when we got there, there was this big Karaoke thing going on. We didn't know, hadn't been in so long we had no clue they did Karaoke. Anyway, we get in there, and there's this god awful woman up on stage, with the frizziest blonde hair and more makeup than Tammy Faye during her Jim Baker years." While Buffy talked, she gently urged the vampire to lean back, putting all her attention on the story, so she wouldn't give in to the urge to vomit at the sight of his chest. More of the same had been done to that, as had been done to his back. A corresponding hole to the one over his heart on his back was on his chest, slamming it home that he could have died. And they never would have known. "Anyway, she was up there singing the worst version of 'Wind Beneath my Wings' any of us had ever heard." Her eyes flicked up to his to see if there was any recognition in them. Nothing. *Well, guess being engaged to me wasn't all that memorable,* she thought, remembering just how badly Spike had teased her that night about it. "You started to heckle her so bad, her boyfriend got up and got in your face. You just rolled your eyes and kept shooting off your mouth. Finally, just before we were about to get kicked out, he says if you think you can do so much better, get your ass up there and do it. Well, the rest of us just had to jump in then. Finally pushed you into doing it, and Xander got himself ready for some heckling of his own." She smoothed the cloth over his chest, trying not to count the ribs she felt as she did so. She glanced up at him, but he seemed to be intent on her hand. He was as tense as a strung bow, looking ready to flee at any second.

"So, you say 'Fine. Show you yanks what real music is.' To say we were a bit afraid, well, that would be like saying you like hot chocolate." His eyes shot up to her at that. "Oh, you remember hot chocolate?" He looked at her for a minute, then nodded. "You want some when we're done here?" Another nod. "Okay. Then let's get this done, okay?" He hesitated this time, but nodded again. "I need to. . ." She motioned down to the water, feeling her face start to flame. Spike didn't look much better, and he started to frantically shake his head. "Hey, I'm not exactly thrilled about it either," she told him, putting more body wash on the cloth. "Do you want to?" A frantic nod. "Okay, here you go. Want me to turn around?" Nod. "When did you get modest?" she mumbled, handing him the cloth and turning around. She continued to talk while listening to the soft splashing sounds of the water, and the grunts of pain Spike was letting out. "Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, you went up on stage, all cocky and swaggering, smirking at the audience and flipping people off." She chuckled a bit at the memory, thinking of the way he looked bathed in the stage lights. He looked just like any rock star she had ever seen, almost like he had been born to be there.

"So," she started again, settling herself onto the floor. "You talk to the guy doing the music, and get up in front of the mike. The next thing we know, the entire club is silent, almost like they're waiting for you to make an ass out of yourself. I know we were." She smiled, thinking of all the shocked looks that abounded when the first notes of the song he'd picked started. They were expecting the Sex Pistols, or one of those other eardrum splitting bands that he liked so much. The fact that it had been Edwin McCain should have been mortifying. The realization that the song was "I'll Be" should have had them all laughing hysterically. But, the truth was, they were all stunned into silence when Spike started singing, his voice sure and strong. Buffy had found herself enraptured, feeling like he was singing straight to her, even though he hadn't looked at her since he'd started. Just the way he was standing, the way his head angled to the side, just let her know his words were for her. "You brought down the house. Really excellent. We teased you unmercifully after that. Called you 'Lestat' and everything. Said you should start a band like he did. You didn't think it was too funny." When she didn't hear any more movement, she turned around.

And had to immediately turn back. Her heart slammed against her chest and she had to take deep breaths to keep herself from leaning over the toilet and losing all the coffee she'd ingested that day.

Somehow, while she was telling her story, she hadn't heard him dunk under the water. When she turned around, he'd been laying on his back, partially floating. Of course, her eyes had landed on an area she really had no business looking at, no matter how many times she and Willow had giggled over the way he filled out his jeans. It was the sight of his manhood that had her fighting to keep the contents of her stomach where they should be. It was the fact that it was an ugly purplish green, and swollen, that was curling her insides. A scarred over laceration edged the area above the dark curls of his pubic hair. She didn't even WANT to contemplate what that was for.

She jumped when she felt the gentle touch on her shoulder, and whirled around. Spike stood above her, his hair freshly washed, and a towel wrapped around his waist. What had her snapping to herself were the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"You ready?" He nodded, dropping his gaze from hers, shame written across his sharp face. "Hey, don't. What happened is NOT your fault. I'm just sorry we weren't there to help you. We looked, everyday we looked." She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "We looked. But there was nothing. Nothing." She stood while she talked, and raised a shaking hand to touch him, leaving it hovering just a breath away from his skin. He reached up and took her hand, bringing it to his chest and placing it over his heart. She looked at him in confusion, wondering what he was trying to say. He took his other hand and tapped lightly on the area next to her hand, the sound imitating a heartbeat. "What? Heartbeat? Spike, you don't have a heartbeat." He nodded his head, indicating that was what he meant.

"So, no kidding. Hello, vampire." He looked so sad when she said it, she replayed what she said to make sure she hadn't unwittingly hurt his feelings. She felt a touch of amusement at that, since she and Spike pretty much used to say whatever they wanted to each other, either in teasing or anger. "Spike, what is it? Wait, you don't think you DESERVED this, do you?" Buffy gasped, surprise evident on her face. She shook her head, getting ready to deny what he said, when he gently touched a finger to her lips.

"Monster," he said, his chin quivering, and tears leaking from his eyes.

"No, Spike. No." He just shook his head, stepped out of the now empty tub, and walked around her. She stood in the bathroom for a second, collecting herself, before she turned and followed him, grabbing the first aid kit as she went. She found him in her room, looking at the pictures she had taped to the mirror of her vanity. They were all of the Scoobies, Spike included, from over the years. Starting with when she first moved to Sunnydale with her mom and Dawn. All of them showing how they'd changed, grew. Except Spike. He always seemed the same, the brash, cocky one who smirked when the Polaroids were snapped. At least at first glance. Buffy could always tell the changes in him, just by looking in his eyes.

The first picture was taken at Christmas after she came back, and he had been so surprised at the invitation. That surprise was evident in those sapphire orbs, caught forever on film. Of course, the first time he had seen himself in over a century had spurred an hour's worth of staring and smirking from the vampire, but none of them called him on it.

The picture that was Buffy's personal favorite was taken before Dawn's prom. He had muttered and cussed about all the fuss and fanfare, subtly preening at all the cooing the girls were doing about him in a tux. And Buffy could admit, to herself at least, that was the night she saw him beyond 'friend'.

He'd made Dawn so unbelievably happy that night, taking the poor girl who the whole school thought was weird to the dance, and showering her with the attention every girl deserved on her prom night. Buffy had managed to catch him alone, while Willow was helping Dawn finish getting dressed. She had snapped a picture, after calling his name to get his attention. The look in his eyes was so vulnerable, so seeking of acceptance, that it shone through in the picture. She'd taken the picture, and instead of putting it in the album with the rest, taped it to her mirror, thinking he had never looked more human than in that moment. Except for the moment he saw her on her grave. And she didn't have a picture of that.

"Come on, Spike. We need to get you bandaged up. Then, this Slayer needs to get to bed." She threw the kit on the bed and went in search of something other than a towel for him to wear, digging up a pair of her father's old sweat pants in the bottom drawer of her dresser. "Here, put these on." She turned away from where he had settled on the bed, to give him a moment's privacy, not turning back until she felt the gentle brush of his hand against hers. She turned back and gave him a smile, then settled next to him.

She worked quickly, for his benefit and hers, covering up the wounds with care. When she was done, she found a t-shirt for him to slip on.

"Are you hungry? Do you want some blood?" He shook his head, staring down at his hands. "Okay. Well, do you want to watch some tv or something? I think Willow taped Passions for you." She chuckled a bit, thinking of the almost rabid way the witch made sure the tapes were made. Each was labeled in that meticulous way of hers and placed on the shelf by the tv, since she just KNEW Spike would be pissed that he missed so much. But, again he shook his head. "Uhm, you still tired?" A nod was her answer. "We can set you up in Dawn's old room, if you don't mind being surrounded by pictures of the Backstreet Boys." A shake of his head, and a nervous glance at her bed screamed where he wanted to sleep.

She started to say 'no way', until he looked up at her, his fear of being alone nearly starting her tears again. With a sigh, she nodded, standing and pulling back the blanket and sheet, then moving to the window to make sure the drapes were shut tight against the morning sun. When she turned back to the bed, he was already under the covers, his back turned towards her, and he was practically clinging to the side of the bed.

She crossed to the bed, pulling her bra under her shirt and sliding her pants off, after making sure he wasn't looking. Then, she grabbed a pair of cotton shorts off her chair and slid them on, before climbing into her bed. She lay there, staring at the ceiling for a minute, before impulsively leaning over the blonde and brushing a kiss across his cheek.

"I'm glad you're back, Spike. And you aren't a monster," Buffy said quietly, then turned on her side and snuggled under the blankets, wondering if she would indeed, be able to sleep.

  
**Chapter 5**

Spike jolted awake, momentarily disoriented as to where he was. But the soft mattress under him, the thick blankets on top of him, and the lingering scent of vanilla in the air reminded him that he wasn't in that OTHER place anymore. He glanced around the room, recognizing it as Gold's. _No, that isn't right, that's not her name_ , he thought to himself. His mind was less scattered today, and he realized she had a name, and he even knew he knew it. The problem was, he couldn't retrieve it from that place in his brain that he locked away, so they, no HE, couldn't touch it. The one with the cold eyes and the hard words.

Panic seized Spike at the unwanted memory and he reached across the bed, searching for Gold. That panic got worse when he didn't find her. He shot up to a sitting position, eyes wildly searching the room, fear keeping him in the bed. He was alone, surrounded by her scent and her things. He breathed deep, taking it in and drawing it around him, much like he had the colors, before. He didn't need the colors anymore. He was home.

Relief flooded through him, as his fractured consciousness finally seemed to accept it. He flopped back on the pillows, hissing at the pain that still throbbed in his wounds. He held up the hand with the cross scar, and was pleased to see it was nearly gone, now just barely a white outline on his skin. And he was clean. Deliciously clean.

You're filthy, Spike. A filthy worthless piece of shit. Just sit in your own stink for awhile, and you'll know how they really feel about you. He squeezed his eyes shut against the voice in his head. NO, they helped him, they fed him and gave him a bath. Spike fought to remember the feel of the soft warm hands moving soothingly over his skin, and the sound of her soft voice as she talked. The way her eyes misted when he called himself a monster.

A feeling, a feeling he'd forgotten started to work it's way through him, increasing with each memory of Gold's face he brought to mind. It was something important, and huge, and instinctively he knew it was something he wasn't supposed to be feeling. Not for HER. Or was that what the voice said? Confusion settled over him, stifling him. He could feel the answers, the reasons why the voice had hated him so much, but something was keeping it from coming to the front.

Frustrated, he flung back the side of the blanket and started to get up. He'd just put his feet on the floor when he heard a slight clanking, like two glasses banging together. His eyes shot up to the door, the instinct to flee flaring bright in his chest. It deflated immediately when he saw Gold walk in carrying a tray with three mugs, still dressed in the t-shirt and shorts she'd slept in.

"Hello sleepy head," she said, her voice full of cheer. She moved over to him and put the tray on the nightstand, then picked up one of the mugs. "Your breakfast, sir. You should feel privileged. It's not every day I serve breakfast in bed." She handed him the mug and busied herself with looking under his bandages to see the progress of the healing. She sighed in relief that his vampire healing seemed to be kicking in. She gasped in surprise when Spike grabbed her wrist, his thin fingers like steel. Anger snapped in his eyes and he held up the mug of blood, all the while twisting her arm until the butterfly bandages were visible.

"What is it?" He jerked his head towards the mug, then tugged on her wrist, indicating he knew where the blood in his mug came from. And it wasn't the mix that she had been feeding him the day before. "Spike, don't. You know as well as I do it will help you heal." The fact that he was angry surprised her, until she thought of the night before, when he had called himself a monster. "Drink it, it's not like we can put it back." She gently pried his fingers free and moved to sit next to him on the bed. "And when you're done with that, I brought up some hot chocolate. We kind of got distracted last night."

Spike stared at her for a long minute, before finally conceding and draining the mug. He already looked so much better, the steady supply of blood and rest doing wonders for him.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She took the mug from him and got up, switching the empty one for the one filled with chocolate. "Spike," she waited until he raised his eyes to hers, the blue of his eyes free from fear for the first time since he had shown up the day before. She gave him a soft smile and reached out to brush a stray curl from his forehead, pleased when he didn't jerk away from her touch. "Do you remember what I am, who I am?" Confusion flooded his features, as he tried to figure out what she meant. The mug had paused on its upwards journey to his lips, the steam and smell tickling his nose.

"Slayer," he finally said, his eyes hopeful that that was what she had meant. She smiled again, then indicated he should drink before sitting back down beside him.

"That's right. Now, do you remember my name?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as anxious to him as it did to her. She didn't know why it was so important to her, since he rarely ever called her it anyway. Again, his hand paused as he struggled to remember. 'Gold' stuck out, but he knew it was wrong. He absently took a sip of the hot drink, his eyes then drifting closed at the explosion of flavor. An image flew into his mind then, of a woman with honey colored hair and kind eyes. Sadness hit him with the memory, and he realized that woman was gone. He looked up at Buffy then, tears shining in his eyes. "What's the matter, Spike? It's okay if you don't remember, I don't mean to push you." She stopped when he shook his head. "What is it, then?" He nodded towards the mug, one word slipping from his lips that had her tears starting as well.

"Mum."

"Yeah, that's right. My mom used to make this stuff for you all the time." Of course, that was before the whole Spike's-in-love-with-you-time-to-freak-out-thing. But she didn't figure she'd bring that up just yet. "You and Dawn would sit in the kitchen and laugh at her really stupid stories about her day at the gallery. Mom always liked you. Took me a long time to see what she always had. I'm sorry." She whispered the last part, taking a deep breath to try to settle her nerves. He shook his head again, silently telling her not to apologize. He then raised the cup again, and drained that mug as well.

"So, guess it's time to reintroduce myself. My name's Buffy. Does that spark anything?" 'Buffy,' the name rolled around in his head, trying to catch hold, but not succeeding. He looked at her, his eyes so full of sorrow at letting her down, she wanted to kick herself for pushing. "Hey, it's alright. Now you know. Right?" She tried to assure him that it didn't matter, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed. They had been through so much together, and it hurt that in the space of eight months, he had forgotten about her. Of course, she knew he had help, and she vowed again to kill whoever hurt him so badly. And he did come to her, not Angel, or even Dru. Her. Willow was right, that did mean something.

"All done?" she asked, gesturing towards the mug. He nodded and handed it to her, watching her as she got up again. She picked something shiny up off the tray, and turned to him with a smile. "Now that you're all clean, and your wounds are healing nicely, I was wondering." She reached out and fingered a curl again, before showing him the scissors she had. "Do you trust me?"

~*~*~

"Buffy?" Xander let himself into the Summers' house, carefully closing the door behind him. The house was quiet, and he thought she might still be asleep. He walked into the living room to put down his lunch, before heading upstairs to see where she was, when he realized the vampire wasn't on the couch. A smile spread across his lips, and he decided maybe he'd better stay put and wait for her to come downstairs. He pulled his jacket off and settled onto the couch, opening his bag and taking a deep breath.

"Aw, greasy goodness," he said before pulling out the cheeseburger and fries. He had just taken his first bite when the vampire and the Slayer came down the stairs, neither looking surprised to see him.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asked, tugging the vampire behind her.

"Just wanted to make sure all was well in the land of Summers. And from the looks of it, the vamp's doing better," Xander said with a nod.

"Yeah. He's healing nicely. Now, if we could just get him to remember things would be good."

"Still nothing?"

"No. And he had nightmares all night. I'm not sure I want to know what happened to him." The vampire had tossed and turned all night, his screams of pain and repetition of the word 'no' breaking her heart. She would try to wake him up, usually with no luck. But her touch seemed to soothe him, and she could get him to settle down. She was tired, emotionally drained and physically exhausted. And she could only imagine how Spike felt.

Buffy watched Spike as he moved around the room, gently touching certain things, then moving on. The scent of fried food finally caught his attention and he turned to look at Xander, his eyes landing on the cheeseburger the man held. He was talking to Buffy, so he didn't see the vampire's interest, until the food was suddenly snatched from his hand.

"Hey!" he snapped, watching in horror as his tone had Spike reeling back as if he had been struck, then dropping to the floor. Arms went up to cover his face and he curled up in a ball, waiting for the pain. The two humans shared a wide-eyed look, before they were on their feet and heading towards their trembling friend. The burger had fallen to the floor, where it now sat, forgotten.

"Spike, Spike. It's all right, Xander didn't mean to yell," Buffy soothed, running a hand over the newly shorn softness of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm sorry man. I can always get another one," Xander assured, trying to pry the arms away from the blonde's eyes, so he could see that he wasn't in danger. When he finally managed it, he scowled at the closed eyes he encountered. "Hey, Spike. Look at me. I'm not mad." One eye cracked open, and searched his face. After about a minute, he relaxed and his trembling ceased. But he hung his head when he sat up, embarrassed and still somewhat afraid. Xander grabbed the burger off the floor, and made sure it wasn't dirty, before holding it out to Spike. "See, here ya go."

"Ew, Xan. That's been on the floor." Buffy delicately wrinkled her nose up. The brunette just snorted.

"Buffy, we're guys. That just adds flavor," he said, his eyes telling her she had a lot to learn about the other half of the population. She rolled her eyes and got up, watching Spike to make sure he was all right with her moving.

"It's still gross," she reiterated, just as the blonde vampire reached out and took the sandwich from Xander. He still hesitated, before the human nodded and told him to eat.

"See?" he said smugly, laughing at the disgust on Buffy's face.

"Fine, I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?"

"Yeah. Come on, Spike. Let's get you on the couch." He held out a hand, and kept it out as he was put under scrutiny by the vampire. "I said I was sorry. Trust me, when you get your memory back, you're going to roll on the floor at my expense. We NEVER apologize to each other," he told the vamp, clasping his hand and pulling him to his feet. He kept a steadying hand on the vampire until he was settled on the couch, the burger disappearing in the space of a few bites. The brunette chuckled and sat next to him, picking up the carton of fries as he sat back. He heard the low growl just as he'd plucked one out, and sighed. Throwing it back in with the rest, he handed them to Spike, smiling despite the fact that he had just lost his lunch to a guy who didn't even need human food to survive.

Spike happily dove into the carton, his eyes shooting up to Xander's. He held it up, and nodded to it. It took Xander a second to realize Spike was thanking him.

"Hey, no problem. It's not like I needed all that yummy grease and red meat anyway," he replied with a shrug, patting a hand on his stomach. Satisfied, Spike went back to making the fries disappear, not noticing that the other man was studying him.

Xander tried to pinpoint the time that he and Spike had finally said the hell with it and became friends, despite their best efforts not to. He figured it started when Buffy was gone, and they had all watched the vampire nearly crumble with grief. They had all mourned her loss, but only Giles and Dawn had seemed to feel as bad, or worse, than the blonde. Spike had thrown himself into helping care for the younger Summers, and helping them patrol, never asking for anything in return. He and Dawn had clung to each other, like children, and their bond had soon become unbreakable.

Then, Buffy had come back, and they, meaning he, Anya, Willow and Tara, had just assumed things would go back to normal, and Spike's presence hadn't been tolerated anymore. At least not by him. The girls just accepted his assistance and constant hanging around Buffy like it was normal. Even Giles, before he went back to England, seemed to accept him into their group. Xander had reverted back to his usual obnoxious self with the vampire, often finding himself on the outs with the others. He didn't like the fact that Buffy would disappear, presumably patrolling. He followed her one night, and found out she went to the vampire, and not just for help. She would just sit with him, not talking, listening as he spun some tale.

Xander could look back now, and knew he was being childish then, but at the time it had enraged him that Buffy was seeking him out, instead of talking about whatever was bothering her with her friends. That was where she should have been, not with the evil undead. So, Xander had confronted her the next day, and had found out just how much she wasn't the Buffy of old.

He'd come in, guns blazing, and smart mouth shooting off, not listening when Willow told him to shut up. They were all in the Magic Box, researching some new demon or the other, and all of them were there. Spike included. He'd just sat silently through the insults Xander threw at him, a muscle ticking in his jaw the only outward response he gave. That was, until the brunette had said something not so nice about Buffy.

He couldn't even remember what he'd said, but he did remember the speed in which the vampire moved, and that even though the chip went off, he still found himself pinned against the wall with a vamped out demon in his face. Buffy had stepped in, prying Spike off the brunette. Xander had smirked, expecting the Slayer to punch Spike like she usually did, only to yelp in surprise when she reared on him instead. She told him, in no uncertain terms, to get over it. Spike was part of the team now, and if he didn't like it, he could leave. She didn't want to hear any of the evil, soulless shit, she didn't care. He was there for them when they needed help with a Hell God, he'd taken care of her sister when she was dead, for no other reason than a promise. And if he was so damned evil, that wouldn't have made him stay. She'd laid it out simply, her voice cold as she did so.

Deal with it, or leave. Those words reverberated over and over in his head, the look on her face telling him she was serious. He glanced around the room, searching for help, but all he received were disappointed looks. Including from Anya. He'd glared at them all, then stormed out into the night, swearing not to go back.

That had lasted until Anya had been kidnapped by that same demon they had been researching. He'd frantically run into the Magic Box, finding only Spike. After a few babbled explanations, Spike was walking to the training room and grabbing the biggest ax he could find.

"Come on, boy. Let's go save your woman," was all he had said as he left the store, fading into the darkness with ease. By the time Xander had caught up with him, the thing was dead, Anya was safe, and Spike had a gaping hole in his stomach from where it's tusk had impaled him. He'd passed out next to the demon, a dark pool of his own blood spreading around him.

They'd managed to stop the bleeding just as Buffy and the others had caught up to them. Willow had taken over then, and Tara had seen to Anya, while Xander slumped in a relieved heap on the ground. Buffy had walked over to him and kneeled in front of him. Then, in only a space of a glance, all was forgiven.

It had taken a little longer with the vamp. And it had only been after he'd had no choice but to stay with Xander and Anya when his crypt had become infested with crazed fairies. Willow had tried everything, but the little pests wouldn't budge, so he'd been forced to wait them out. It took a month for them to do whatever they had shown up to do, by then Spike and Xander had come to an agreement. They were the only two men in a group full of women, they might as well learn to tolerate each other. But, it had gone deeper than that, and Xander had been nearly as lost as Buffy when he'd disappeared. Spike had become as close a friend as Jesse had been, something he'd never say out loud, but it was true all the same.

A loud banging on the door pulled him out of memories. It also sent Spike off the couch, a wild shriek ripping from his throat. He huddled in the furthest corner of the room, arms in front of his face and head ducked.

"Shit," Xander said, crossing the room to him just as Buffy reentered. "Answer the door, I've got him," the brunette said, settling down in front of Spike and shielding him from the front door. Buffy looked torn, but the urgent knocking came again and she turned away to answer it. She looked out the peephole, but didn't see anything except a dark figure and. . .was that smoke? With quick fingers, Buffy threw open the locks and swung the door wide, stepping out of the way at the same time.

The blanket covered figure flew inside, sweeping off the smoking garment just as she swung the door closed. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and waited, a golden eyebrow arched in amusement.

"Well, now I see where Spike gets it," she said, staring into the eyes of her former love.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"How to make an entrance," she said with a smile. Angel returned it and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I didn't expect you for a couple more days."

"Cordy kind of pushed me out the door. Said my brooding was making her want to scream. So, here I am. How is he?"

"A lot better than he was last night. He's more aware now, but as you can see, loud or unexpected noises freak him out." She led him into the living room while she talked, gesturing to where Xander was in the corner.

Suddenly, the brunette was shoved out of the way, as Spike lunged at his sire. A sound that was a cross between a growl and a scream filled the air, and the blonde dropped to the floor, grasping his head in pain. Buffy cursed and dropped next to him, seeing that he was vamping. She tried to touch him, but he pushed her off, ripping one hand away from his hair and reaching for Angel. The older vampire was on the floor in a second, his hand clutching Spike's flailing one. Horror twisted his features when he saw what had been done to his childe's fangs, and a bloodlust like he hadn't felt in years filled him.

"Who did this?" he growled, his own demon surfacing in response to the pained sounds the blonde was making.

"We don't know. He's still not talking much, no more than a word at a time," Buffy explained, brushing a hand over Spike's ridged forehead, happy that he didn't shrug away again. In fact, his other hand clutched hers and he seemed to calm.

"Welcome to the party, dead boy," Xander said, getting up from where Spike had pushed him and rubbing his hip.

"Xander."

"Spike, do you know who this is?" Buffy asked him, her voice drawing his eyes to her. He looked back up at Angel and nodded, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"Sire," he rasped, turning and crawling up into Angel's lap, his other hand never letting Buffy go, pulling her with him. Angel wrapped his free arm around Spike, holding him close and emitting soft growls which seemed to soothe the blonde further.

"I'm going to go get some coffee," Xander said, not expecting an answer. He felt like an intruder on the scene, and felt the need to leave. Buffy and Angel didn't even look up. They just continued to sit on the floor, each trying to give comfort to the desperate demon between them.

**  
Chapter 6**

Under the cover of night, a simple, nondescript black sedan with black tinted windows slid into Sunnydale. It went straight to the hotel in the center of town, where five men emerged from the darkened interior. No one leaving or entering the parking lot paid them any mind, as there was nothing remarkable about any of them. Young and good-looking, and altogether normal looking, they didn't harbor one second glance from anyone.

Four of the men waited by the car, unpacking the trunk, while the one with light brown hair and cool blue eyes made his way to the office to check in. Several large, black bags were sitting at the men's feet when he came back, three room keys in his hand. No words were spoken when he reached them. The other men just leaned down and picked up their bags, following him to the rooms, their movement eerily in synch and precise. When they reached their destination, the first man handed a key to one of each pair, keeping the last key for himself. Then, without a word having been spoken between them, he let himself into the first room, closing the door on the four men, knowing they would follow their orders.

Riley threw the bag of his clothes on one bed, and his weapons bag on the other. He then went straight to the phone and punched in a series of numbers. He listened to his messages, noting the ones he had to answer and the ones he could care less about. He'd kept it quiet about this mission, making sure the young scientist understood what would happen if he said anything. It hadn't taken much, since Johnson had first hand knowledge of just what Finn had done to Hostile 17.

Everybody back at the base just thought he was going home to visit his parents. And that was all they needed to know.

When the last message ended, Riley hung up the phone, went over to his bag, and pulled out two things. One was the file on Sunnydale, and the other was a small leather case. He then walked into the bathroom, stripping on the way. Once there, he turned the water as hot as he could stand it, then climbed in, scrubbing himself quickly, then washing his hair, before getting out and drying off. He padded naked back to the bed and picked up the leather case, pulling out its contents, carefully arranging them on the bed. He sat down on the edge and picked up the leather strip, wrapping it around his bicep, tying it tight. A few quick taps and a vein appeared, ripe for the sticking. Riley picked up one of the pre-filled syringes, pushed the air out, then stuck the tip into his skin, not even flinching at the prick of pain. He sighed, deep and satisfied as the clear liquid went into his body, the top secret concoction immediately melding with his cells.

He pulled the syringe out when it was empty and tossed it into the trash. He mentally reminded himself to put the 'do not disturb sign' up, so the maid wouldn't come in and find something she shouldn't. He waited a beat, then pulled off the leather strip and put it back into the case. He flopped back onto the bed, flung his hands over his head, closed his eyes and waited. It didn't take long.

Within seconds of the serum entering his blood stream, the mutation began. Riley's body went as rigid as a steel beam, his veins and muscles bulging with strain. He panted in harsh breaths at the familiar pain coursing through him. His eyelids squeezed tight and his teeth clacked together, his lips drawn back tight against them. Then the tremors started, erupting with a violence that almost threw him off the bed.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and the Commander was slumped tiredly on the bed, a smile on his mouth. He slipped into sleep, content in the knowledge that his prize would soon be returned, and he could get a little payback on the girl that had broken his heart.

~*~*~

"Are you sure Mark doesn't mind taking my patrol again tonight?" Buffy asked Willow. The redhead nodded, for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, Buffy. He doesn't mind. He doesn't have any cases right now, and he likes to kill things. So, works for him." Buffy snorted at that statement, and how unweird it was.

"So, what's been going on up there?" Willow asked, sliding onto a stool. Buffy shrugged and stirred the eggs she was making in the pan.

"I don't know. All I know is that right after he got here, he picked Spike up, took him to my room, and shut the door. Came out once for some blood and wouldn't answer me when I asked him what he was doing." The blonde sounded more than a little pissed at that. She was a bit resentful that he had come in and taken over, even though she called him to come help. Spike was her responsibility, and while she had thought Angel might have been able to provide some insight into how to heal the younger vamp, she hadn't expected to be shut out. She'd been so pissy about it, Xander had taken off not too long after the vamps had disappeared upstairs.

"Well, he is Spike's sire. I'm sure he knows what's best," Willow tried to placate. She felt a little out of sorts herself, having expected to see Spike when she got there, and getting nothing but a closed bedroom door. "Has Anya been by yet?" she asked, hoping to change the subject. Buffy scraped the eggs out of the pan, and set one of the two plates in front of Willow before answering.

"No, but she called earlier to tell me why she hadn't. She didn't want to overload Spike with too much at once." She stabbed some of her food and shoved it in her mouth, not really tasting it as she chewed. Her annoyance at her ex was written all over her face, and she half regretted calling him.

"Well, that's understandable," Willow commented, looking up at her friend and realizing she hadn't been heard. "Buffy?"

"Huh? What? Oh, I'm sorry Will. I guess I'm just a little distracted." The Slayer grimaced, wondering if maybe she shouldn't have shirked her patrol off. At least then she'd have something to do.

"It's okay," the redhead assured her, pushing her empty plate away and picking up her coffee. She watched the other girl push her food around on her plate, not taking another bite, seeming to be lost in thought. For not the first time since Buffy had come back, Willow wondered what was going on in her head. _Spike would know_ , she thought, not feeling the resentment that would have followed three years ago. It had bothered her more than she liked that Buffy had taken to spending time with the vampire, but she had been more understanding than Xander. As long as she was talking to SOMEONE, even Spike, Willow was glad. It hadn't been until the dancing demon had breezed through town that anyone knew WHY she was going there. It had been then that they had found out where she had been, and why she had been acting so unhappy about being back. And Spike had been the only one who knew.

They'd found out a lot about each other over those few days. Tara had sung about her fear of living on the Hellmouth, and had left soon afterwards, breaking Willow's heart. Xander and Anya had finally admitted to each other how really scared they were about their upcoming wedding, and had postponed it for another year. Dawn had been feeling lost, and a little lonely, with all the adults wrapped up in their own troubles. Giles had decided he needed to go back to England, feeling he wasn't doing Buffy any favors by being there. Willow had a fear of not being needed. And Spike. Spike had let it be known that he was still very much in love with the Slayer, and deeply afraid of being left alone again. All the vampire seemed to want was to belong somewhere, and it was then that they all realized he did.

So afterwards, with the exception of Xander, who had taken longer to come around, they made an effort to fix the mistakes that had been done. They'd healed, with each other's help, and became a stronger unit. When one hurt, they all hurt. Including their former enemy.

Which was why the two women were sitting in the kitchen trying to talk while the Slayer's former love, and his childe, were upstairs in her room. Of course, Willow had a sneaking suspicion that Buffy's feelings went a little deeper than she was willing to admit.

Two sets of eyes shot to the kitchen doorway at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A tired looking Angel walked into the kitchen, a fresh bandage wrapped around his wrist.

"He wants to see you," was all he said, barely sparing her a look. Buffy was off the stool like a shot, not waiting to be told twice. "Willow, can I get some blood, please?"

"Sure," she said, standing up and walking to the fridge. She glanced over at the brunette while she worked, noting how weary he looked. He rested his forehead on his arms, and waited. "So, what's been going on up there?" she asked after she set the mug in front of him. He looked up gratefully, and took a long swallow.

"I was trying to see if he could tell me what happened. Started out with just demon speak, but he's so fractured. So, I reaffirmed our bond. Something that's going to piss him off beyond belief when he's aware again."

"Why?" Willow asked, sitting down again.

"Because, normally the bond is used as a form of control between Sire and childe, ensuring loyalty. And even though we patched things up, and he felt a certain amount of loyalty to me anyway, this sort of forces the issue. And we all know how Spike feels about being forced." They shared a smile at that.

"Did you find out anything?"

"No. Nothing concrete anyway. No names, no places. Just images and pain. A lot of pain." Anger skidded across his face, hardening his features and making Willow shiver. For a second, she thought she was looking at Angelus, until he looked back up at her, and she saw Angel in his eyes.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked, getting up and putting hers and Buffy's plates in the sink. She suddenly felt the need to be busy, and started the water to wash the few dishes that were there.

"Yeah. He has a strong survival instinct. And he's got people he cares about. I think he just tucked himself away in his mind, to help him get through. Most of the physical scars are gone. Benefit of Slayer AND sire blood." Her eyes shot to his at that.

"Buffy gave him her blood?"

"Yeah. Quite a bit from what I could tell. You're surprised?"

"N-no. Not really, I don't think. I mean, I just didn't think about it. I know she's given him her blood before. But usually mixed with other human blood." Willow set the last mug in the drainer and pulled the plug on the water.

"It'll help him heal," Angel reaffirmed, draining his mug. "I'm going to go call Cordelia. Then do you think it would be alright if I could sleep somewhere? I haven't been to bed since yesterday."

"Yeah. Take Joyce's old room. There's heavy curtains up, so you should be alright."

"Thanks. Goodnight Willow."

"Goodnight Angel." The brunette got up and left the kitchen, leaving the redhead to her own thoughts.

~*~*~

Buffy paused outside of her bedroom door, suddenly nervous. With a scowl, she wiped her hands on her jeans, then pushed open the door, knocking softly.

"Spike," she called, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dark room. She saw him sitting on the opposite side of the bed, the moon coming through the window illuminating him. "Spike?" she called again, stepping inside and shutting the door. She crossed quietly over to him, and gently touched a hand to his shoulder.

"Buffy." Tears welled in her eyes at the sound of her name said in that rough, accented voice.

"Yeah?" she asked, walking around in front of him. He looked up at her, his blue eyes clear. What had her lip trembling, in addition to the tears, was the recognition she saw floating in those orbs. "Spike? D-do you know who I am?" Her voice was barely a whisper, hope echoing loudly despite its softness. His eyes burned into hers, pain, anguish and relief swirling in their depths.

"How could I forget you?" he asked, reaching up and taking her hand off his shoulder, turning it so he could lace his fingers through hers.

"Oh, thank god," she said, feeling herself nearly topple with happiness. "Can you talk about what happened? Where you've been?" she asked, kneeling down in front of him. He flinched and held up his free hand to still her words. He shook his head, sighing at the disappointment he saw in her face.

"No, luv. I can't. It's here." He tapped his forehead, then let his hand fall heavily into his lap. "But, I can't get it to be clear. It took everything in me to pull myself out of that state I was in this morning." With a lot of help from his sire.

"It's okay. I don't mean to push," she said, smiling at him.

"Thank you," he rasped, raising his hand and tracing the line of her cheek. A small smile touched his lips at the remembrance of a time when she would have cut his hand off before letting it touch her.

"For what?"

"For yesterday. For this morning. For giving a shit about a soulless demon." She saw him visibly flinch at the words, knowing instinctively he was hearing them in his head, said by a different person.

"Don't talk like that, Spike. You saved me. It's my turn," she told him, the look in her eyes telling him not to argue. She leaned over and turned on the lamp, so she could get a better look at him, apologizing when he squinted. He still looked so frail and thin, despite the rapid healing of the wounds. And the life wasn't back, that spark that just seemed to be a part of him, dancing constantly in his eyes and singing under his skin, despite him being technically dead. "You look exhausted," she said, moving to sit next to him, keeping their fingers interlocked.

"I am," he said simply. He felt jittery and weak as well. Two things he didn't like.

"Why don't you try to get some rest? We'll talk more tomorrow," she said, pulling her hand from his and making him lay down. He let her fuss over him, enjoying it as much as she seemed to need it. Once she had him tucked in, she smiled and straightened. She then went to the window and closed the curtains, making certain he was safe from the sun. "Goodnight, Spike," she said when she was done. Panic clutched him when she turned and headed towards the door.

"Buffy." She stopped and looked back at him, surprised he wasn't turned towards her.

"Could you. . .stay?" The soft question hung in the air for a long minute, and Spike felt like a class A ass for asking. He closed his eyes tight and willed himself not to concentrate on the sound of her heartbeat as she left the room. To his surprise, he felt the bed shift as she crawled into it, her heat sliding across the sheets to wrap around him and comfort him. When her tiny hand snaked around him, and her body pressed against his back, he had to fight back the tears at the thought that this beautiful, pure creature would want to touch him.

"Goodnight, Spike," she said again, her warm breath tickling the soft ends of his hair. He lay awake for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, and her breathing, afraid if he closed his eyes, when he woke up again, he would find that it was all a glorious dream. That he would find himself back in the harsh white room, with cold metal furniture, instead of here, wrapped safely in her arms. However, the need to sleep eventually won out over fear, and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 7**

Mark and Willow walked hand in hand down the street, enjoying the few minutes of quiet in the warmth of the early morning. They were heading over to Buffy's so Mark could fill her in on his night, then they were going to go find something to do and leave the two vamps and the slayer alone for a while.

He also wanted to try to have a minute alone with Buffy. On his way over the night before to pick up Willow, he'd sensed something hovering around the house. He'd walked around the outside, not seeing anything, but still had that itchy feeling between his shoulder blades that told him something was up. He couldn't place it, but his highly honed sixth sense had gotten him out of a lot of trouble in the past, even saved his life a few times, so he wasn't willing to bet it was a fluke.

He hadn't told Willow about it, not wanting to worry her. He'd talk to Buffy first, then let her decide what to do. It was her house after all.

Mark's boots thudded against the stairs as they climbed to get to the door. Willow looked at him and smiled, before reaching up and knocking. After a minute, they heard the lock turn, and the door swung open, revealing a more rested looking Slayer.

"Hi, guys. Come on in. The vamps are in the kitchen already," she said, smiling.

"Are you sure? The last time Spike saw me, it wasn't exactly good," Mark asked, hesitating.

"No, it's okay. Come on," Buffy assured, before turning and walking away. The couple followed, pausing long enough so Mark could shrug out of his duster and sling it on the banister.

"Sod off, Peaches." Willow's eyes widened at the sound of the familiar voice and she hurried forward, almost afraid to hope.

"Dammit, Spike. Would you just listen for once in your miserable unlife?" came Angel's response. Buffy rolled her eyes at the bickering pair, and went back to making coffee. She smiled when Willow entered the room, her emerald eyes riveted to the vampire.

"Why the bloody hell should I? S'not like you know what you're talking about."

"Spike?" The redhead's gasp had Spike's head swiveling around, and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes curling his lip.

"'Ello, Red." Before he had a chance to brace himself, he suddenly found his arms full of a crying female. "Hey now. No need for all that," he said, awkwardly running a hand over her back. He turned his head into her hair and inhaled her scent, letting it comfort his jittery nerves. He'd done the same when he had woken up that morning to find Buffy wrapped perfectly in his arms.

"Oh God, Spike. I'm so glad you're alright," Willow said, pulling back to look at him. She frowned when she noticed how flat his eyes seemed, and gave him a sad smile. "Maybe not as alright as I'd hoped," she said softly, leaning up to brush a kiss across his cheek.

"Don't you worry, Red. I'll be right as rain in no time." She arched a russet brow at that and grinned.

"Not if you're running around saying 'right as rain'." He snorted at that and reached up to touch a strand of her hair, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It was then he caught the scent clinging to her, a scent he didn't recognize. Then he caught the sound of a third heartbeat, and his eyes shot to the kitchen doorway. Despite himself, he stumbled back a bit at the sight of the tall, long haired brunette with the side arms strapped to his sides.

"Oh, Spike. It's okay," Willow immediately said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. He looked wildly down at her hand, then back at Mark, trying to calm down.

"Spike, he's not here to hurt you," Buffy said, turning to look at him. A low growl filled the air, the deep timber causing Spike's eyes to rivet to Angel, an answering growl erupting from his chest.

"Spike, this is Mark. Willow's boyfriend," Angel explained, motioning for the hunter to come closer. He didn't miss the glare the Slayer shot at him, but chose to ignore it for the moment. He got up and placed a hand on his childe's shoulder, offering support. Spike was beyond embarrassed and tried to shrug it off, to at least maintain an illusion of dignity.

"Right, I take it you're the bloke she met 'round Halloween," the blonde said, reaching out a tentative hand. Mark smiled and took it, not maintaining the contact longer than Spike wanted.

"That's right."

"Good. Red's a good woman. Don't hurt her." Willow blushed at the protectiveness of the tone and gently slapped his arm. "Wha? Not going to treat him no different than I would anyone coming around to sniff at Dawn. Or Buffy," he said in a matter of fact way. He might not be back to himself fully, yet. But nobody hurt his girls. If he hadn't liked Tara so much, she might not have made it out of town in one piece. That, and the fact that he couldn't really blame the girl for wanting to run far and fast to get away from the Hellmouth.

"Thanks, Spike. I'll remember that," Mark said, not phased in the least. "Hi Angel."

"Mark. Good to see you." The two brunettes shook hands, then Mark turned to Buffy.

"Just wanted to tell you about patrol last night. Everybody was asleep when I picked Willow up."

"Oh, yeah. How'd it go?" Buffy brought her coffee to the table and sat next to the resettled Spike. Mark and Willow settled on the other side, while Angel busied himself with making blood for himself and Spike.

"Just a few new risers. Nothing unusual."

"You patrol? By yourself?" Spike asked, intrigued. Even Xander didn't go out alone, and he'd grown up in Sunnydale. The three humans exchanged glances, trying to decide how to answer.

"Yeah, you see, Mark's kinda in the profession," Buffy explained.

"How so?" Spike took the mug from Angel and took a sip, grimacing at the taste of pig's blood. After a steady diet of human and Slayer blood, the animal blood was repugnant. This was one of the times he really hated his sire's sensibilities.

"Well, uhm, you see," Willow stammered, not wanting to upset the blonde.

"Look, Spike. I'm a demon bounty hunter. I get paid to hunt down demons," Mark said bluntly. He didn't see any reason to dance around the subject. Angel nodded and waited to see how Spike would react. Blue eyes met black, the vampire trying to see if he needed to be afraid. He didn't think Buffy would let someone in who might take him back to that place, but she'd been fooled before. Seeing nothing, he drained the mug.

"Sounds like fun. Have to tell me about it," he said, nearly snickering at the sighs of relief that sounded from his friends. Mark's lips quirked into a smile.

"Hey, whenever you feel up to it."

"Who that hell could that be?" Buffy groaned, hearing a knock at the door. She hadn't had this many people in her house this early in the morning since Dawn's last slumber party. "I'll be right back." She slid off the stool, squeezing Spike's arm before she turned and left the kitchen.

"So, what were you two arguing about when I threw myself brazenly into your arms?" Willow asked, her voice warm. "And it's nice to know some things will never change."

"Well, it seems my sire feels that since I haven't smoked in eight months, it would be stupid to start again. Course, I told him to sod off." He glared over at Angel, who gave him an unrepentant smile.

"You might not die from it, but the humans around you can."

"There's worse things they can die from and a little second hand smoke's not going to change that," Spike shot back. He jolted when he felt something hit his arm, and stared down at the Marlboro light. His eyes shot up to the innocently smiling Mark, a grateful expression on his face. "Thanks mate. Think I'm gonna like you." He was off the stool like a shot, and walked over to the basement door, his designated smoking area while the sun was up. He paused and looked at the man, cocking his head to the side. "You wanna. . .?" He couldn't quite get the rest out, but Mark got his meaning.

"Nah, just had one. And I need to ask Buffy something." A flare of relief flashed through Spike's eyes, and he disappeared downstairs without further hesitation.

"You just made a friend," Angel said with a sigh, before picking up his and Spike's mugs to put in the sink. Willow giggled, barely stifling it when the vampire scowled at her.

"Oh, come on, Angel. After everything he's been through, let him get have his nicotine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I was just afraid he'd forget he was smoking it and set something on fire. He's been kind of spacey."

"Wouldn't you be? I'm sure he'll be fine. And it's not like you can't go down and check on him," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," Angel agreed. "Sorry, don't mean to be a jerk." He scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could just crawl back up to bed. He'd had a rough night, hearing Spike's cries as he fought nightmares. He'd wanted to rush in and protect his childe as best he could from the ghosts, but when he had gotten to the door, he sensed Buffy. She talked to Spike and assured him he was safe, her words calming him and soothing him back to sleep. Angel had just gone back to bed, still waking up each time he heard the blonde vampire, but knowing he was alright with the Slayer.

"S'okay. I wonder what's taking Buffy so long," Willow said, glancing towards the kitchen door.

"I'll go see. Got to use the facilities anyway." Mark pushed away from the table and kissed the top of her head, then left the two in the kitchen, quietly talking.

~*~*~

"I'm coming!" Buffy huffed walking towards the door. "Hold your damn horses." This she muttered to herself as she stood on tip toe to see out the peephole. She gasped when she saw who was outside, confusion slicing through her, followed by a flash of hurt. Anger hit next, but she managed to push it away to open the door, and NOT rip his head off. "Riley? What are you doing here?" she asked, standing in the doorway. Her ex gave his usual 'aw shucks' grin, and dipped his head. _And to think, at one time I thought that was charming_ , she thought, realizing she much preferred a smirk with a cigarette dangling from it.

"Buffy. Good to see you. I just got transferred back to California, and I had to stop by and see you," he told her, his voice full of warmth. Buffy mustered a smile, but she knew it didn't reach her eyes.

"That's great, really. Thanks for stopping by." She didn't care that she was being rude. She so wasn't in the mood to deal with yet another ex boyfriend. Not when the one already in the house was annoying her to no end.

"Do you mind if I come in for a minute? I won't stay long," he promised, smiling at her again. Buffy refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely. With a sigh, she stepped away and invited him in. She then shut the door and walked into the living room. She didn't sit. She just remained standing, with her arms crossed over her chest, and waited. "Things weren't right between us when I left and I just wanted to clear the air," Riley started, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Well, maybe that's because you were getting suck jobs from vamp ho's cause you were jealous. And then, you had the nerve to give ME an ultimatum. So, yeah, I'd say the air was a bit murky when you left," she agreed, wondering why they had to rehash all this. It was long over, and she'd died and come back since then. It sort of made that whole thing seem kinda boring in comparison.

Riley's eyes dropped to the floor, cold anger snapping in them. He barely managed to keep from reaching out and punching that 'holier than thou' look off her face. Once he was sure he was calm, he looked back up at her, and put on a sheepish expression.

"You're right. I was wrong back then. I just. . .it doesn't matter now. You have your life, I have my life. I just wanted to apologize, that's all."

"Well, thanks Riley. But I haven't really thought about it in a while," she snapped angrily.

"Hey, Buffy? I need to talk to you. . .about. . .some. . .thing." Mark's voice filtered from the doorway, making Riley spin around at the interruption. As soon as their eyes met, recognition poured over them both like ice water. "Riley?" Mark gasped, the memory that had been eluding him suddenly blooming with bright clarity in his mind. Alarm bells went off in his brain, and it seemed as if the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. His face showed none of it as he reached out to accept the hand offered to him.

"Mark Lynch? What the hell are you doing in Sunnydale?" Riley grinned and pumped the other man's hand, his mind working to solve this new equation.

"You two know each other?" Buffy asked, eyeballing them both.

"Yeah," Riley answered, glancing back at her. "We met in Brazil. God, what was it, three years ago?"

"Something like that," Mark agreed, mentally kicking himself for not making the connection between Buffy's ex boyfriend Riley, and the cold soldier he'd met in South America. "I was hunting a Chaos demon, and I met up with his platoon. They were nice enough to let me share camp with them," he explained quickly.

"What the hell are you doing here? And how did you meet Buffy?" Riley asked, his tone excited at seeing an old friend.

"Settled down here. Met a girl, and said why the hell not. The girl is a friend of Buffy's, so that's how I met her."

"That's just great."

"Well, isn't that cozy?" Buffy's sneered, her own mind going to work, and nothing she came up equaled good. Mark was a demon hunter, who came to town about the time Spike disappeared. Riley used to work for the Initiative, a place that captured demons for scientific study. Spike was one of those demons. Mark was paid to capture demons and take them to whoever wanted them. Riley hated Spike. Mark's face had taken on an ashen quality when he saw Riley, almost like he felt guilty. No, none of it was good.

"Wow, it's great to see you," the soldier gushed, cringing at the act he had to put on.

"Yeah, you too. Buffy, whenever you've got a minute," Mark said. He sighed at the accusation he saw flaring in her hazel eyes.

"Oh, that's okay. I was just leaving. Buffy, again, I'm sorry. I hope we can be friends." Sincerity dripped off the words, making the Slayer want to heave.

"I have enough friends, thanks. But I'll keep that in mind."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." The soldier looked at her with his blue eyes for a second longer, as if trying to decide something. Then, he nodded sadly and turned to leave. "Goodbye Buffy," he told her, opening the door and leaving.

The click of the door closing had barely faded when Buffy reared on Mark, murder glowing in her eyes.

"You better tell me you had nothing to do with Spike's disappearance. And make it convincing, because I would hate to kill Willow's boyfriend in my living room." She was shaking with anger, her tiny body coiled to strike. Mark held up his hands in surrender.

"Buffy, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it. I haven't seen him since Brazil," he assured, waiting for the punch. Her eyes locked with his for a long moment, studying him.

"Then why did you get all jittery when you saw him?" she threw back, not wanting to believe he would do such a thing, but having to think it just the same.

"I think... That's part of what I have to talk to you about. I think Riley had Spike."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Call the rest of the Scoobies. You all need to hear this," he said, his eyes begging her to believe him.

"Fine. But I want answers Mark. And they better be good." With that she stalked past him to go to the phone, anger and fear vibrating under her skin. Mark stayed in the living room, wondering if the only friends he'd ever had would hate him for what he'd willingly forgotten.

~*~*~

"Sir, did you acquire the target?" The soldier that fell in to step next to Riley after he got out of his car, asked.

"Yes, captain. He's in there. As well as one other vampire."

"Sir?"

"His sire. Angelus." A sneer curled Riley's lip at the thought of having the two vampires that had ruined the Slayer. He scowled again when Mark's face filtered through his mind. "And there was another there. Someone I knew in Brazil. Mark Lynch. A demon bounty hunter."

"Was he there to collect Hostile 17?" The captain was confused. They hadn't been informed of any outside assistance. In fact, they had been told to keep it top secret.

"No," was all the Commander said, his tone telling the other man not to question it.

"Will he be a problem?"

"No more than the Slayer. He's strong and capable. But in the end, we will retrieve the subject, and hopefully have a second as well. Two master vampires, one ensouled." He was nearly giddy with the idea.

"Should we activate the chip, sir?"

"There's no need yet. We'll have him by tonight. Don't want to take him back with oatmeal for brains. Go back to your room and prepare for the mission," he told the soldier when they paused outside of his room.

"Yes sir." The man turned away and went to debrief the others, leaving Riley alone to ponder all the fun he could have with Angel and Spike. With a chuckle, he let himself into his room to get some rest before the retrieval of Hostile 17.

  
**Chapter 8**

Mark stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over his chest as he dealt with the weight of so many eyes on him. It hadn't taken long for the Scoobies to assemble, within a half an hour of the call going out, they were all there, knowing only that Riley had shown up, and that the hunter might have some information that was important. Now, Anya and Xander sat on the couch, after the ex vengeance demon had said her hello to Spike. Dawn sat next to them after her own tearful hello with the vampire she thought of as brother and father. Buffy sat rigidly in the rocker in front of the fireplace, her eyes blank of whatever emotion she might have been feeling. Willow sat in the recliner next to the couch, her expression worried. She had no idea what had transpired between her lover and her best friend, but she could feel that it wasn't great. Throw Riley into the mix, and it definitely equaled bad.

And finally, Angel and Spike sat next to the door, in a couple of chairs hauled in from the dining room. There had been a heated debate between the Slayer and sire about whether or not Spike needed to hear whatever Mark had to say. Buffy was afraid of what it would do to him to hear it. And Angel had insisted they shouldn't hide anything from him. It was finally settled by Spike himself, who had said he wanted to hear it, and had touched a gentle hand to Buffy's hair. She'd given in, because it was what Spike wanted. She had a feeling, however, that she and Angel were going to come to head soon, and it wouldn't be pretty.

Now, here they sat, waiting for Mark to tell them what he had witnessed in Brazil. With a sigh, Mark started to speak, his voice low and steady, contrary to the bile threatening to rise in his throat.

"As you all know, I was in Brazil a few years ago. I was sent down there to trace a chaos demon. He'd killed a Senator's daughter, and the Senator didn't take it too well. When I got to Rio, I found out the demon took off into the Amazon Basin. He apparently heard I was coming. Well, I tracked him for a week, with no luck." The brunette started to pace and ran a hand through the long length of his hair. "I was about ready to turn around and head back to civilization. My supplies were running low, and the bastard was doing a good job at evading me. Then, I came to a small village. It had been reduced to rubble, there wasn't a soul around. Except for this small band of soldiers. Well, as soon as they saw me, they were all over me. Had my pack, my weapons, everything spread out over the ground, including me. When they found my badge, they let me up and started demanding answers. Told them what they wanted to know. Once they realized I wasn't a spy, or whatever it was they thought I was, their captain approaches me. It was Riley." He glanced over at Buffy at that and sighed at the brow she arched at him. "He offers to let me bunk with them, and gives me fresh supplies. Even offers to help me look for the demon. I tell him thanks to the supplies, no to the help. I ask him what happened to the village. He said it was infested with fire demons, I can't remember the technical name. Killed most of the villagers and destroyed everything. They'd come in to clean them out. Well, they gave me back my stuff and led me to their camp. I pretty much kept to myself. I couldn't really say why, but these guys kinda freaked me out." He could see it clearly in his mind, the exact precision in which they moved, talked, even ate. It was like they were a bunch of robots, following a specific program. "Riley tried to talk to me a few times, told me they could use a tracker with my experience and knowledge. Told him no thanks. He took it alright, I guess. Not too long after that, I turned in. Had to get up early and start tracking the chaos demon again."

They could tell, by the way his movements got jerky, he was getting to the part of the story he didn't want to remember. He itched for a cigarette, needing the calming nicotine. He just continued pacing, his long legs traversing the room quickly.

"Well, the next day, I get up and headed out well after the rest of the camp did. There were only a few soldiers left, to guard the camp. I didn't say anything to any of them, just got my stuff together and got the hell out of there. Something about them seemed off, and I really didn't want to be around anymore. I searched all day, found some evidence that he had been through there. The trail led straight to a cave. I hear all these noises coming from inside, so I drew my gun. Went in, and immediately picked up the smell of burning flesh. It was sickening. And it was everywhere." Mark's face twisted in disgust at the memory of the stench, his stomach pitching dangerously at the memory of what he saw next. "I held my breath and went further in, hoping I wasn't too late to help whoever the demon had in there. But, when I got inside, I saw that it wasn't the demon doing the burning." His eyes flicked over to Spike and he was hesitant to go on.

"Mark, what happened?" Willow asked, her heart clenching in her chest.

"Listen Spike, are you sure you want to hear this?" The vampire looked at Mark, fear lancing through him at the look on the brunette's face. What he was about to say was going to bring back memories, he could just see it. He turned his eyes to Buffy, then to Angel, and saw the support in their faces, as well as the other Scoobies. He nodded, indicating Mark should continue.

"I'll be alright." Mark didn't look convinced, but he saw the determination on the vampire's face and nodded.

"When I first went into the cave, I saw about five soldiers, and my chaos demon, with about four vampires. I was prepared to go in, collect my demon and head out. They hadn't seen me yet, and I was getting ready to let them know I was there. Then I saw Riley." Another pause, and he seemed to struggle with the words. The group of friends watched him, wondering what could have been so horrible, so unspeakable as to stilt this man, who'd probably seen the worst the world had to offer. "In the middle of the cave, there was a fire, and in the fire, were several long, sharp metal rods. Riley was holding one and taunting the vampire chained to the wall. He was a fledgling from what I could tell, and scared. It's an odd thing, to see a vampire scared." He glanced at Spike again, saw that the vampire had started to tremble, and his eyes had taken on a glassy quality. He seemed to be looking at something inside his mind, and Mark just hoped he'd be able to handle what he was about to describe. "The end of the rod he was holding was glowing, so you knew it was in the fire for a long time. At first, he just waved it in the vamp's face, laughing at the way he was twisting in his bonds to get away from it. From the burns already on his face, I could tell where the smell of burning flesh had come from. Then, he put the rod against the side of his neck, and burned off his sire's mark. The scream, jeez, the scream." He stumbled now, remembering that half shriek, half growl that erupted from the demon. "And Riley just laughed. Next thing I know, that damn rod is sticking out of the vampire's body, right over his heart. You ever seen a vampire catch on fire from the inside out?" The glowing end of the rod had ignited the dead heart it had come in contact with, incinerating him from the inside. All eyes shot to Spike when they heard him whimper. He was sitting next to Angel, his hands over his face, as if trying to ward off the images forcing their way to the front of his mind.

"I told you he shouldn't be in here," Buffy accused, pushing to her feet and crossing to the blonde. When Angel growled, she didn't even flinch, just gently took Spike's wrists and pulled them away so he could see her. "Spike, it's alright." She lifted her hand to his chin and brought his face up, so he could see her. She struggled to control the disgust waging inside of her at the monster her ex had become, and take care of Spike. "Spike, you're safe, okay?" As soon as his eyes had landed on her, they lost that glazed look, and he started to become aware of his surroundings again.

"I'm fine." Spike looked around the room, embarrassed once more. When the hell was this going to stop? He hated for them to see him weak and needy.

"Do you want to leave?" Angel asked him, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh. He shook his head, he could take this. He was surrounded by his friends, his sire, the woman he would love until he was dust. Nothing could hurt him here.

"No, go on, mate." He looked over at Mark and nodded once, indicating he could continue. It took Mark a minute to get started again, and Willow resisted the urge to go to him. He had that 'don't touch' aura around him, letting her know this was hard for him too.

"I don't know how many more details you want. I just stood there in shock. I understood killing the demons, and I didn't even get too pissed when they beheaded the chaos demon. That was all I needed to take back to the Senator. But, the utter brutality. They took them apart before they killed them. Plastic stakes dipped in holy water. Branding irons. Cattle prods. You name it, they used it. I think, the worst, was when I watched Riley force open the mouth of one of the females. She was vamped, because of all the pain. He had a pair of pliers. . ." A deep breath to stave off the nausea that threatened. The others in the room had a feeling they already knew what was coming, and they all shot looks to the vampire. "He had a pair of those heavy duty pliers, and he just reached into her mouth with them, and. . .and. . ."

"He ripped them out. Her fangs. He ripped them out," Spike said this, his voice matter of fact. Mark swallowed hard and nodded. She'd thrashed out with the agony that action had caused, throwing the guards holding her across the cave. When she reared on Riley, however, he merely grabbed her by her throat and picked her up, not seeming to notice the razor-like claws tearing into his flesh. He then tossed her to the side, to land on the fire. She combusted immediately, her shriek piercing Mark's stupor. He turned and ran out of the cave, not caring if they heard him, knowing he could get away. He hoped. He ran until he hit the camp again, and collapsed, not really wanting to stay there, but not wanting them to know what he had seen. He made some lame excuse about being chased by a wild cat, and kept to himself for the rest of the day.

When they returned after nightfall, Riley walked straight up to Mark and dropped a canvas bag at his feet. They looked at each other for a long minute, no words being said. Then, Riley nodded once and turned away, the meanest smile Mark had ever seen on his face. The next morning, before dawn, the hunter left the company and prayed never to see any of them again.

Mark turned and looked at the group staring at him when he was done, and held out a hand to Willow. With tears running down her face, she rushed to him, clasped him tight around the middle, her tiny body shivering against him. Xander held onto Anya as she shook in disbelief. She may have been an ex vengeance demon, but vengeance seemed so vile when it was done to someone you knew. Dawn sat next to them, silent tears leaking from her azure eyes.

Buffy stared at the couple, her mind reeling from the information. Everything Mark described coincided with the injuries on Spike's body. Anger and hate threaded through her, and all she could think of was 'destroy'. Hurt Riley the way he hurt Spike. Angel's growl was a testament to her own feelings, and she couldn't help but agree. Finn would regret the day he'd ever set foot in Sunnydale again.

"Now, do you believe I haven't seen him since then?" Mark asked, looking over at the Slayer. She nodded and gave Spike's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He looked up at her, thankfully still clear eyed.

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious Riley didn't stop by today with just the intention of looking up an old flame," Xander said, pushing aside the horror of what he had heard and starting to think about the matter at hand.

"And I don't think he's alone. Last night, on my way over here to get Willow, I got this feeling. That something wasn't right. I didn't see anyone, but I'm not wrong," Mark told them, his tone sure.

"He was looking for Spike. But he didn't ask about him." Buffy tapped a finger against her lip while she thought, her mind kicking into gear alongside of Mark's and Xander's.

"He wouldn't. Wouldn't want to be obvious," Anya offered. "He must have some way to tell if he's here, though."

"Why do you say that?" Buffy asked.

"Because when he left, the last thing he knew we all hated Spike. There would really be no reason for him to come here."

"He knew I had fallen in love with the Slayer." Spike's quiet voice cut through their conversation, bringing all eyes to him again. Quickly, he told them about his last encounter with the soldier before he'd headed out for the wilds of Brazil.

"But still, that wouldn't automatically lead them here, would it?" Dawn asked, wanting to interject SOMETHING, so she didn't feel so useless.

"Remember when I came to town that one time, and we got into that fight? After Faith showed up in LA?" Angel asked, starting to slowly see the pieces fit.

"He was always mad I wouldn't stake Spike, after the chip got put in. And the fight with you. The vamp ho's."

"Okay, so he has a thing against vampires. Why did it lead him here?"

"Against these two particular vampires. Because of me." Guilt surged through her, that because of her, Spike got hurt so bad.

"He wasn't there, when I was first taken."

"What? Are you sure?" The Slayer kneeled down in front of the blonde and took his hand.

"Yeah. I was there two months, I think, maybe three. Time got kind of muddled after a bit. But he wasn't there. It was after he came that they took a special interest in me." He shuddered at the memories busting loose from the place where he had locked them up, and squeezed Buffy's hand to a painful degree.

"Don't worry, Spike. He won't get you again," Angel promised, barely contained violence in his words.

"So, what do we do? I think it's safe to assume he'll be back." Willow offered this, wiping her tears, and jumping into her 'action' mode.

"I think the first thing we should do, is get Spike out of here. We don't know what kind of fire power Riley has, or how many of his little buddies he brought with him." Buffy released Spike and rose to start pacing.

"What if they have some sort of homing device on him?" Xander asked, throughout this remembering the time Giles dug one out of the blonde vamp's back.

"Shit." Buffy hadn't thought of that.

"I can do that spell again. The one that charged the ions in the air and masked the signal. It's not great on the hair do's, but it worked," Willow offered.

"Wait, I've got a better idea." Mark walked over to his duster and started to search through one of the cavernous pockets. He pulled out a small device, and flipped it on.

"What's that?"

"It's a signal scrambler, to put it simply. It should interfere with a homing device, if he does have one on him." Or in him, he thought to himself. "We'll have to find it, eventually, and get it out. But this should work for now." He handed it to Angel, and let the vampire put it on Spike.

"Okay, that's taken care of for now. How do we get him out of the house without being seen?" Buffy asked, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for ideas.

~*~*~

"Okay, remember when we took Dawn to see Harry Potter?" Willow asked, putting the rest of the supplies she'd used into her bag. Spike nodded, but didn't see how that had anything to do with his duster. He'd been touched to find out Buffy had kept it under her bed, and would wrap herself up in it when she was lonely. Willow had told him that. "Remember the Invisibility Cloak?" Ah, it made sense now.

"Yeah."

"Well, this will do the same thing, with the added benefit that all you have to do is put it on, and it'll make you fully disappear. Not just the parts it touches. Try it on." She handed him the leather and watched as he put it on. As soon as it covered his lean frame, he slowly faded, until there was nothing but space in front of her. She smiled wide and picked up Angel's coat. "Here, now you." The brunette scowled at it, obviously not happy at having to leave the house. As far as he was concerned, Finn needed to have a taste of Angelus. But Buffy had pretty much told him, either he did it this way or he could go back to LA. She didn't want either vamp in the house if-no, when- Riley came back. She wouldn't leave, and they decided Mark should stay as well. That left Angel as the last one with enough strength to protect the still weak vampire.

Angel took the coat and slipped it on. The same results occurred, and Willow smile brightly.

"Well, do we have two inviso-vamps?" Buffy asked, walking back into the room, carrying a wicked looking hand ax.

"Bloody right." Buffy couldn't help the small squeal that escaped her at the sound of Spike's voice in her ear. She rolled her eyes at the chuckle he let out.

"Glad to hear some of your obnoxious humor is back." She reached out in the direction his voice had come from, and pressed her hand against the solid wall of his chest. "Cool," she said with a giggle. "So, do we all know the plan?"

"Yeah, Angel and Spike will head out as soon as the sun sets. They'll wait in Spike's crypt until we signal them that it's safe to come back."

"What happens if anything goes wrong?"

"We separate and meet at the Hyperion in two days." This came from Inviso-Angel.

"I guess we're ready then. Mark and Xander are making sure they can't get into the house without us knowing. Dawn and Anya are making sure you two have supplies. Then, they and Xander are heading back to the Magic Box to wait. Mark and Willow will stay here with me, in case I need help." She heard Angel's growl and shot a glare in his general direction, since she wasn't entirely sure where he was and she didn't want to take the time to figure it out.

"I guess all that's left to do is wait," Willow said, finishing her clean up and wiping off her hands.

"Yep. That's all that's left." A surge of adrenalin shot through her at the promise of an impending fight. It was payback time, for every sin Riley Finn had ever committed. She just hoped he'd last long enough for her to beat him for just General Principle, as well as all the pain he'd caused Spike.

"Buffy?" She turned in the direction of Spike's voice, and smiled as he came back into view.

"There you are," she said with a smile. It felt kind of weird to be playing a game of peek-a-boo with a vampire.

"Be careful. He's not the same Captain Cardboard that left." She smiled again, hoping to reassure him.

"I could handle him then, I can handle him now," she assured, frowning when he didn't look convinced. "Hey, don't worry. We have a plan. And our plans usually work." Cheer infused her voice, making him give her a tight smile. "Now, why don't you two go get some blood and get ready to head out. Sundown's in about two hours," she said as Angel reappeared to view as well.

"Let's go Spike." Angel dropped his coat onto a chair and went to lead his childe to the kitchen. Spike gave Buffy a long look before he left, his eyes unusually open and expressive. Worry for her safety was written all over his face.

"I'll be careful," she finally promised, hoping to put him at ease.

"Thank you," he said, then let Angel take him out of the room. Willow and Buffy looked at each other and mentally seemed to be preparing for the night ahead.

"Do you really think he'll show back up tonight?" the witch asked after a minute. She suppressed a shiver at the cold curtain that dropped over her friend's eyes.

"Oh, I hope so, Will. I hope so."

  
**Chapter 9**

"Bloody hell, would you quit? You're makin me dizzy, going 'round in circles like that," Spike snapped, glaring at his sire. Angel was stalking around the crypt, edginess and anger rolling off him in waves. He wanted to be back at the house, shoving a few plastic stakes into some strategic places on Riley Finn, not sitting here doing nothing. He glanced over at Spike, and sighed. The younger vamp was as tense as a coiled snake, and he wasn't helping. He walked over to the sarcophagus, where his childe was sitting, idly banging his heels against the stone. A cell phone was clutched tight in hand.

"I'm sorry, Spike," he said, resting his palm against Spike's cheek. The blonde gave him a tight smile, and went back to staring at the cell phone. He seemed to be willing it to ring. "Worried?" A curt nod was his answer. Angel slid onto the stone next to him, and wrapped an arm around the younger vampire's shoulders. Spike leaned into the comfort, hating himself for needing it. "I'm sure everything's alright. Buffy can handle Finn. She's beaten our asses more than once." Spike snorted at that.

"Maybe yours. I give as I good as I get."

"Uh huh. Who was stuck in a wheelchair for five months?" Spike scowled at that, and gave a low growl, to which Angel chuckled.

"Ponce."

"Love you, too, Spike." They lapsed into silence after that, each imagining what could be happening back at the Summers house. Each hoping this nightmare would be ending soon.

~*~*~

When the knock on the door came, the three sitting in the living room almost couldn't believe the predictability of it. But, then, Riley was a soldier, and routine was his God.

"Showtime," Buffy murmured, pushing to her feet. Adrenalin sang under her skin, making her heart trill with excitement. She glanced over at Willow, before pulling the door open to face the smiling face of her ex.

"Hello Buffy," He said, ducking his eyes. *Still playing the game, huh?* she thought, pasting on a nasty smile.

"Riley. What are you doing back here? I thought we said everything we had to say earlier," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. She arched a brow at the chuckle that erupted from his lips.

"Well, not really." She saw the change in him the second it occurred, even though she couldn't really pinpoint what it was. All of a sudden, he seemed. . .bigger. His eyes turned cold, his stance rigid. The hard mask that fell over his face caused an unnoticed chill to race up her spine. Spike's words from earlier, about how Riley wasn't the same, skidded through her memory as she stared at the proof.

"Done with lying, are you? You didn't come here today to make amends. You were looking for Spike." She felt rather then heard Mark and Willow come up behind her, to present a unified front to Riley. Anger bloomed fresh in her heart at the fact that Riley merely looked bored.

"Can't we skip all this, Buff? Why don't you just hand him over? And I'll be on my way," he suggested, his eyes barely flicking up to acknowledge the witch and the hunter.

"Did you take too many shots to the head? Why would I turn him over? In case you forgot, I was pretty active in NOT letting the Initiative get their hands back on him."

"Oh, I remember. Vividly. It was always about him, wasn't it Buffy?" He tilted his head to the side and looked at her with such contempt, it made her bristle.

"Why don't you just get out of here, Riley? We're not going to let you have him." Willow took a step forward and pinned him with her eyes. The black that flashed over her green orbs didn't even phase the soldier.

"You can't hurt me, Willow," he told her, sneering.

"No? Well, I think I might be able to do a pretty good job. Why don't you come in and find out?" Buffy challenged, tensing.

"Come on, guys. Why do we have to do this? You can't stop me. Mark, help a guy out." He turned his eyes to the demon hunter, an amicable smile on his face. Mark rolled his eyes in disgust, but didn't answer. "So, that's how it is, huh? Do you two need to be reminded just what it is you do? Buffy, you're the VAMPIRE slayer. And Mark, you hunt demons for a living. Why are you trying to protect this one? I NEVER understood that." Riley shook his head in wonder, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"You wouldn't. You don't have an ounce of mercy in your body," Buffy said through clenched teeth. Her hands had fisted, and she was more than ready to plow them into his sanctimonious face. In this minute, she truly didn't understand what she had ever seen in him. His eyes hardened to chips of ice, and anger ticked a vein in his jaw.

"I have mercy for those that deserve it. And some disgusting vampire doesn't." Riley's head whipped to the side with the force of the blow the tiny Slayer visited on his jaw.

"Get the fuck out," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. Her body shook with rage and disgust, and she thoroughly expected him to leave. Her eyes widened in disbelief when he started to laugh. She took an unconscious step back when he slowly turned his head back around. Mark gasped when he saw Riley laughing, not even phased by the punch that would have shattered the hunter's jaw. He immediately reached for his gun, and trained it on the soldier.

"Oh, you don't want to do that, Mark," Riley said, his voice amazingly calm. When he reached into his pocket, the click of the gun being cocked echoed through the room.

"Get your hand out of there, you fuck," the brunette warned, his hand never wavering.

"Relax, I just wanted to show you something." His hand emerged from the inside pocket of his jacket, revealing a small tube filled with a clear liquid.

"What the hell is that?" Buffy asked, brandishing an ax. Riley chuckled when he saw it.

"All this for me? I'm touched." He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a slim, black device. "Well, you see Buff. This is why I need Spike back so bad. This little bottle of liquid is the latest innovation in demon hunting, currently only used by the US Army." Another chuckle, this one bordering on maniacal, filled the air. "And this?" He twisted the electrical thing in his hand, and stared at it almost lovingly. "Is going to help me find the bleached wonder."

"You really think we'd make it easy?" The Slayer eyeballed both hands, trying to figure out just what both things did.

"No, Buffy. Nothing's ever easy with you."

"What does that stuff do?" Willow asked. She felt a little lost. She didn't know why Riley felt so confident, or how he had managed to get strong enough to take one of Buffy's hits.

"This stuff?" He tilted the vial, and watched the liquid swirl around inside. "Let's just call it 'Essence of Vampire', shall we? For when you want to kick it up a notch." He laughed at his own joke, and tossed it in the air.

"So help me, if you say 'BAM', I'm going to knock your teeth down your throat. Not that I'm not going to anyway. It'll just make it more satisfying," Buffy told him. "A lunatic that watches the Food Network is more than a little disturbing."

"That's your problem, Buffy. No imagination." She didn't see it coming, until she was flying back into Willow. Her stomach convulsed with the force of the hit, and she had to fight the urge to lose the contents of her stomach. The two girls looked up from the heap they landed in when the gunshot went off.

"MARK!" Willow screamed, trying to shove Buffy off her, so she could help her lover. Blood seeped from the wound in Riley's arm, but that hadn't slowed him down. Mark's gun skidded across the floor when Riley grabbed his wrist and slammed it over his knee, effectively breaking his wrist. The hunter didn't let out a sound, just clenched his teeth and swung with his good hand. The other man ducked easily, then grabbed Mark around the throat and picked him bodily off the ground. Mark clawed at the hand crushing his larynx, and kicked out with his heavy boots. "SEPARATE!" the witch yelled, confusion and fear gripping her when nothing happened.

"See, Will. I told you there was nothing you could do." He ripped open his shirt to reveal an amulet resting against his chest. It was the size of a half dollar and had intricate words in an ancient writing all over it. "It's the charm of Tacken. No magic can be used against me," he explained, as easily as if he was talking about the weather. A war cry filled the air, and Buffy surged off of the floor, wielding the ax in front of her like some Amazonian warrior. She leapt around Willow, and swung the deadly instrument at the hand holding Mark. She was knocked out of the air with no more effort than would be used to swat a fly, and flew through the air to land hard against the door jamb.

"Willow, get out," Mark managed around his desperate gasps for oxygen. With a desperate kick, he landed a blow to the groin of the soldier, and began sucking in air when he hit the ground. Riley stumbled back a step with the pain, but quickly recovered. He straightened and looked at the three in front of him. Buffy had pulled herself up, her breathing labored from the cracked rib she'd incurred when she landed. Willow was tugging on Mark, trying to get him out of harm's way, and Mark was trying to push himself up to his feet, his gun clutched in his good hand.

"Well, since you're not going to cooperate, I guess it's time to see just what the chip will do to Spike." Three sets of eyes shot to him as he held up that black device he had been holding. He pressed the button on the side and waited. After a second, he started to shake it, wondering what went wrong.

Meanwhile in the crypt, Angel was trying to calm Spike, who was writhing on the dusty floor in agony, a silent scream twisting his features.

"What the fuck is wrong with this thing?" Riley wondered aloud. He wasn't paying attention to the Slayer or the others as he cursed to himself. Suddenly, the device went flying from his hand, after the Slayer's tiny foot connected with it. She did a flip over his head, barely managing to stay out of his grasp, and picked it up. She depressed the button, then threw it on the floor, shattering it. She stomped the little bits of wire and electrical parts for good measure, and glared up at the man she used to love.

"What happened to you?" she asked, shaking her head.

"You did," he answered, before he rushed her. She neatly back flipped away, stopping and ducking just in time for him to try to tackle her and miss. The crash was immense when he landed in her mother's china cabinet. She was up and running for the door, screaming for Mark and Willow to get out, before he had a chance to pick himself out of the debris.

The witch and the hunter were out the door in the second before her, rocketing towards the sleek, black car parked on the street. Buffy pulled her cell out of her pocket, before sliding into the backseat, and hitting speed dial for Angel's.

"Get out of there, NOW," she yelled, bracing herself when Willow pealed out into the street. The distant sound of sirens could be heard, indicating the neighbors had called the police. *Good, that ought to keep him away for now,* she thought, while she waited for the Magic Box phone to be answered. She breathed shallowly, to offset the pain lancing through her from her rib. Mark sat slumped in the front seat, holding his shattered wrist in his good hand, and staring unseeing out the window.

"Back up plan," she said when Xander picked up, hanging up before he could answer. She threw the phone across the seat, and sat back. Tears burned her eyes, and worry clutched her heart. What if they didn't make it? What if Riley's men did something to the others? They were obviously not at the house, or else they would have been attacked before they ever reached the car. She hated separating, but they hadn't been able to think of any other way. She really hated leaving the house, not knowing what Riley was going to do in there with them gone.

"We need to get you two looked at," Willow said, as she tore out of town.

"No hospitals," Buffy and Mark answered at the same time.

"Just drive until we're almost out of gas, then find a hotel." There were bags in the trunk, just in case it came to this. Buffy waited until Willow nodded, then shifted in her seat to get more comfortable, if possible. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that the others would be alright.

~*~*~

Riley burst out of the back door just as the police cars pulled up front. He cursed violently in his head when he had to duck down into a bush to avoid being seen by the neighbors. Rage raced through his blood, clouding his vision. He knew better than to underestimate an enemy. And Buffy had always shown herself to be resourceful in the past. Why had he thought it would be any different now?

"Sir," the communicator squawked, just as he made it out of the backyard, and started down the street.

"Go ahead," he snarled, still in the process of yelling at himself.

"We lost the signal to Hostile 17's chip."

"I know," was all he said in explanation. "Are you still watching the Magic Box?"

"Yes sir. There has been no activity for over an hour." Riley stopped walking at that. *That's odd,* he thought. He would have sworn that the others would have been on the move as soon as Buffy contacted them.

"You're sure?"

"Yes sir. Nobody has come in or left."

"Have you checked the tunnel access?"

"Yes sir. As I said, no one has left."

"Send a man inside. I don't believe they're still there. Then, meet me back at the hotel," he ordered, deftly changing direction and avoiding the oncoming police cruiser. He didn't need the annoyance of dealing with the police, and trying to explain the already healing gunshot wound in his arm.

"Yes sir."

~*~*~

Five minutes later, a silent figure slipped easily into the basement of the magic shop. He moved silently past the jars of exotic herbs and talismen, without seeing them. His super sensitive hearing was tuned to any sound, searching out any signs of people inside. He walked stealthily up the stairs, and hovered just outside of the door, listening. It didn't take long to realize there was nobody on the other side.

He pushed through the door, and did a quick search of the premises, just to be sure. With a sigh of disgust, he pulled out his communicator.

"They're gone," was all he said, before he shoved it back into his pocket and turned to leave. He didn't relish getting back to the others and dealing with the backlash of this.

~*~*~

Three blocks over in an alley, a manhole cover clattered loudly as it was flung aside. Shuffling could be heard from the depths of the sewer, as well as female voices softly muttering. The sound of feet landing on the pavement and scurrying across the street to the waiting SUV filled the air. Anybody around would have sworn there was no one there to make the sounds, and that the alley must be haunted.

"Come on," Xander called urgently.

"Xander, we're already here," Anya's annoyed voice told him.

"Oh. Dawn?"

"Here, too," the teen answered. "Now, open the doors." As soon as the click of the locks was heard, the doors opened and admitted its invisible owners.

"Well, Xander. Drive."

"Don't you think it will look a little odd, an SUV driving ITSELF through town? Isn't that kind of like having a neon sign 'hey, soldier guys. We're right here?' " he asked, contemplating taking off Mark's duster.

"This is the Hellmouth. How weird could it be?" Dawn hissed.

"Can we just go? The longer we sit here, the longer we're risking them showing up," Anya urged.

"Fine. I just hope the others got out," the brunette said, pulling off into the night.

~*~*~

"Hold on, Spike. We'll be at the car in a minute," Angel whispered to his childe. He held the blonde in his arms, cradling him gently as he moved. Whatever had happened in the crypt was over as quickly as it started, but it left Spike only semi-conscious and unaware of his surroundings. When the call from Buffy had come, he'd wrapped the younger vampire up in his duster, and picked him up. The car was parked on the other side of the woods, and barring meeting any nasty, they would get there in one piece.

He started to walk quicker when the car came into sight, breaking into a sprint when the trees thinned out. He was thankful he owned a convertible, since it made getting Spike inside easier. He laid him in the backseat, leaving the duster on just in case. However, he shrugged his off before climbing in, not wanting to raise suspicion. Then, within five minutes of Buffy's call, the two vampires were en route to the Hyperion, to await the others and figure out what to do next


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 10**

  
A day later, Willow was driving with steadfast determination towards the Hyperion. Buffy hadn't been able to stand the worry anymore. Images of her friends, hurt, or worse, kept rolling around her head, threatening to make her insane. After they had driven for hours, they stopped at a sleazy roadside motel. The man behind the counter had looked at Willow, the gleam in his eyes making her skin crawl. She'd been just about to give him a little zap, when Mark walked in behind her, his large, menacing presence making the greasy little man stumble through the registration process.

Willow gave him a sweet smile when he handed her the key, and suppressed the shudder that threatened when his dirty, sweaty fingers brushed hers. The hunter glared at him, ensuring the rest of their evening would be uninterrupted.

When they limped into the room, they purposefully didn't notice the creaky old bed, the threadbare carpet, or the evidence of bug infestation, and set about wrapping broken bones and cleaning up. While Willow and Mark were in the bathroom, Buffy sat out on the bed, taking shallow breaths because of the cracked rib, and went over all that had happened. In a million years she never would have believed Riley would go back on the happy juice. Willingly that is. And this time, instead of just man-made drugs, they were milking the power out of vamps and using it. Her stomach rolled at the portrait her mind happily created of just HOW they'd gotten that stuff out of Spike.

The thought of the horror Spike had endured, had tears spilling down her cheeks. Her heart squeezed as her overactive mind went into high gear. Her worry intensified, but she resisted the urge to pick up the phone and call the Hyperion. They'd all agreed to go silent until they met up in LA, just in case. She promised herself, despite Riley's vampire enhanced strength, that she would exact revenge on the bastard even if it killed her. Again.

She had then laid down and drifted into sleep, exhaustion and the adrenalin crash finally wearing her out. She woke up several times, however, plagued by nightmares and memories. Visions of the years following her return from heaven had twisted and turned, until they were one long movie of torture, all of which ended with her unable to find Spike. Her stomach turned queasily at the idea. He had come to mean so much to her, that the thought of him not there hurt. She'd had an eight month taste of it, and she vowed never to let it happen again.

That's why, when Mark and Willow had finally roused from sleep, she had insisted they leave. She needed to see if they were okay. If Spike was okay.

And so, they left. They'd driven for nearly five hours, and finally, the exit for LA had come into sight. Buffy's heart slammed painfully in her chest. She was terrified of what she would find when they got there.

As soon as Willow pulled to a stop in front of the hotel, Buffy was out of the car, ignoring the twinge of pain from her nearly healed rib. She left the witch and the hunter to follow, and trudged up the front steps. She burst through the front doors and looked around the lobby, barely acknowledging Cordy and the rest of the AI team, searching for her friends.

"You're early," Cordy observed, recognizing the glazed panic look in the Slayer's eyes. She nodded to Willow and Mark when they walked in, then looked back at Buffy.

"Are they here?" Buffy demanded, stalking over to the former prom queen.

"Yeah. Angel and Spike are upstairs. The others are in the kitchen, eating." She'd barely finished speaking when the tiny blonde shot past Connor and took off up the stairs. "Room 217," Cordy called after her, rolling her eyes. "Come on in. You look a little worse for wear."

"Does Wesley have any magic supplies? I need to fix Mark's wrist, and I didn't have time to bring anything with me," the redhead asked, smiling at Connor, who was eyeing Mark suspiciously.

"I'm sure he does. He's in the office if you want to go ask."

"Thanks." The two turned and walked towards Wes's office, without another look back.

"Nothing like a life threatening situation to bring out the rudeness in people, huh Connor?" The boy just shrugged a shoulder and looked nervously at the stairs. He wasn't sure how he felt about his father being upstairs with one of the creatures he'd made when he was soulless. And he sure didn't understand the group of humans from Sunnydale going through so much trouble to save him.

Cordy watched the child she considered her son, despite his only being a few years younger than her, and smiled. He still saw things in black and white, and had a hard time with the shades of grey. And it didn't help that Angel had burst in the morning before, in a smoking blaze of glory, carrying an unconscious, and surprisingly invisible, Spike in his arms. He'd given Cordy a brief description of what had happened, and his conclusion that things had gone bad when Buffy had called.

He also warned her of the impending Scooby invasion, before spiriting his childe upstairs. He'd been up there since then, only coming down once for blood.

"Why don't you go meet Gunn and Fred at the vamp nest down by the docks? It'll do you good to get out of here for a while," she suggested.

"Okay," Connor said, grateful for the distraction. He quickly trotted out the door, not even saying goodbye.

"See, just what I said. Brings out the inner rudeness like the plague," she mumbled to herself, staring at the door for a long minute, before going back to her paperwork.

~*~*~

Buffy skidded to a stop outside of room 217, and clutched the doorknob. She started in surprise when the door swung open and she was faced with Angel in full game face.

"It's just me," she snapped, testily, and tried to move past him. He growled and blocked her, glaring down at her with gold eyes. "Let me in." Her voice was low and dangerous. Her fingers itched to give him a good punch, especially after the royal ass kicking they had received from Riley.

"He's asleep," Angel told her, angling his body so she couldn't get around him. With a sigh, Buffy pulled out the one thing that always used to work on Spike. With a quick snap, she plowed her tiny fist into Angel's nose with a satisfying crunch. The brunette snarled and stumbled back a step. It was just enough for her to slip past him and into the room. "Buffy, goddammit," he cursed, reaching for her. She evaded him easily and practically ran to the bed. She had to see him, had to make sure he was alright.

"Spike?" she whispered, and gingerly crawled onto the bed. She got as close as she could, and stared down into the handsome face that had haunted her dreams for too long. He turned towards her, but didn't open his eyes. She glanced over at the severely pissed off looking Angel. "What happened?"

"I don't know, exactly," he replied, shifting back into human face when he realized she wasn't leaving. "We were talking, waiting for you to call, when he just hit the floor, screaming." Buffy remembered when Riley had pulled out the remote control looking thing, and figured it must have worked. He must have expected Spike to still be in the house, and when he hadn't heard the scream, thought it was broken. Too bad it hadn't been. Buffy nodded, turned back to the younger vamp, and settled herself down next to him.

"What happened with you?" Angel settled on the other side and stretched out.

"Riley. He's on some kind of drug. A drug he got out of Spike. Or some other vamp. He wasn't real specific."

"What?!" She looked up at his incredulous outburst, and gave him a bitter smile.

"Yeah, he was real forthcoming while he was kicking our asses. He pulled out some tube full of clear liquid. Called it essence of vampire. My guess? They're shooting it up, and it's somehow giving them the strength of a really strong vamp." Buffy traced a finger over the scarred brow of the sleeping vamp. "Is he alright?"

"I think he will be. Just needs to heal. He's taking blood, and he has woken up since yesterday. But whatever happened, took a lot out of him."

"The chip. Riley had some device. He pressed the button. Looked really pissed when nothing happened. I think they modified the chip. Maybe as some sort of self destruct."

"Then, we have to get it out," Angel said decisively. Buffy smiled again, this one a bit more genuine.

"Yeah," she agreed, then leaned down to rest her cheek on Spike's chest. Angel watched the two as he listened to Buffy's breathing slow and deepen. Her hand fisted in her sleep on the stomach she had it laying on, bunching the t-shirt in her fingers. Spike's head turned towards her, and he tucked his chin on the top of her head.

A sad smile tugged at Angel's mouth. He'd known, for a long time, how his childe felt about the Slayer. After the team had returned from Pylea and Willow had been here to meet them, to tell him about her death, Angel had taken a trip to Sunnydale. He wanted to pay his respects to the girl that had taught him how to love, before he went on his sabbatical to grieve. He found Spike keeping a midnight vigil on her grave. Their first instinct when they saw each other was to fight. After that had played out, and they were both lying panting on the ground from exertion, they began to talk. Really talk. Something they had never done before. He'd been shocked to find out all that had happened to his childe, and to the tiny group of humans he had left behind. Spike hadn't said the words, but Angel could tell the depth of emotion he felt, just by the way he said the Slayer's name.

They had parted, just as the sun was threatening to rise, not friends, but with a better understanding of each other. Bridges had been repaired, enough so that when Buffy had called for his help, there hadn't really been any question if he would, outside of his normal reservations.

What he hadn't been sure of, was Buffy's feelings for the blonde vamp. The past few days had shouted them loud and clear, and Angel found himself finally able to let the girl she had been go.

With a tired sigh, Angel scooted further down on the bed, and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for him to follow the blonde pair into sleep.

~*~*~

"So, that's what we know," Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest, and drawing her eyes around the room. "And unfortunately, most of it's just speculation." The Sunnydale group was assembled in the lobby, along with Angel. The AI team was keeping a conspicuous distance behind the desk.

"It's better than nothing," Xander said.

"So, what do we do?" Dawn asked, trying not to glance over at the attractive young man across the room.

"I don't know. We need to get the chip out. I don't want to take him to a doctor, though. Not since we don't know just how far Riley's reach extends." Buffy gnawed gently at her bottom lip, her mind turning over their options. Unfortunately they didn't have too many.

"Will, could you. . poof it out?" Anya asked. The redhead thought on it for a minute, and looked a little doubtful

"Maybe. I don't think I could do it alone. We'd need a place I could work, uninterrupted, and that has magic barriers in place. This place is just too big. And home is too dangerous." She lapsed into silence, staring down at hers and Mark's linked fingers. She seemed to be puzzling something over, and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.

"Will?" Buffy prodded, feeling the weight of time limits pressing on her back. The witch looked up, glancing at Buffy before turning her green gaze to her lover. A thousand things were said between them, none of them in words. Mark's fingers tightened around Willow's before he nodded, and offered her a smile.

"Go ahead," he urged. She stared at him for another second, before turning back to them.

"I know where we can go. It'll take a few hours to get there. But it should be safe."

"Good. Will that signal blocker work that long?" Buffy shifted her attention to the demon hunter.

"It should. It obviously doesn't work on the other remote Finn had," Mark reminded her.

"Yeah, let's hope he doesn't have another one with him. I broke the one he had on him."

"Alright, let's mount up," Dawn said enthusiastically. Buffy arched a brow at her sister's excitement.

"I don't think so."

"But.. ."

"No. I want you, Xander and Anya to stay here. He tossed us around like we were rag dolls, and Willow's magic couldn't touch him. I don't want you three anywhere near him. I mean it, Dawn," she reiterated, when the teen seemed ready to argue. She wasn't any happier about leaving them behind than they were about being left. Especially with the looks Dawn and Connor had been throwing at each other for the last hour. But, it couldn't be helped. Deal with crazy, psycho ex now. Overly hormonal teenagers later.

"If Willow's magic can't touch him, how will magical barriers help?" Anya asked, her eyes curious.

"They'll give us an alarm, and at least let us know they're coming," Willow answered.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Angel's voice cut through the conversation, drawing all eyes to him.

"What do you mean?" Buffy's voice held a dangerous edge.

"I mean, he is soulless. What if, once the chip's out, he goes back to killing?" A stunned silence settled over the room. None of them had actually considered the possibility. And from the look on Buffy's face, she wasn't going to. He didn't flinch under her scrutiny, just stared steadily at her, waiting. His face showed no expression, almost like he was trying to make sure of what her intentions were before he allowed his childe to go.

"You tell me, Angel," she spat, tossing her hair. "You've been doing the whole blood sharing thing with him over the last couple of days. Do you think he'll go back to killing?"

Angel waited a beat before answering.

"No." The tension swirling between the two was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the observers wondered just what it would take to break it. And just what would be left standing when it was over.

"I don't either. Then again, I never doubted him." Accusation coated each word, but Angel did nothing to defend himself. He had to fight the smile that threatened, at being proven right. "Get whatever you need ready. We're leaving at sunset." With the declaration, she turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs to return to Spike. The others watched her, all of them wrapped up in their own fears and worries, wondering if this would be the last time they saw each other.

**  
Chapter 11**

"Come."

"Sir, there's no sign of them."

"Have you checked the Hyperion?"

"Yes sir. The only people there are Gunn, Chase, Wyndham-Pryce, and a girl we have no information on."

"Has someone been inside yet?"

"No sir. They also seem to have a green demon working for them."

"I don't care if they have a 300 pound Fyarl demon working there. Get inside and look. We're returning to base tomorrow. I want something to take back with us." Cold blue eyes regarded the soldier, making the young man nervous. Their commander hadn't seemed quite right since the night he returned form the Slayer's house, angry as they had ever seen him. Finn had barked out a few orders, then disappeared into his room, where it sounded like he was systematically tearing it apart. He'd emerged the next morning with orders for them to go to LA and survey the hotel the vampire called Angel owned. They had found nothing. The young soldier, whose name was Simmons, felt they should have returned to base immediately to get another tracking device, as well as a few more troops. Who knew how far the vampire and his friends could have gotten by now. He didn't dare suggest it, though. No one could be sure of how Finn would react to recommendations.

"Yes sir." With a smart snap of his heels, Simmons turned and left the room, leaving Riley Finn to roll the events of the other night over and over through his mind. A crazed rage tore through him every time he did this, and he vowed that the Slayer, and her friends, would share the same fate as the vampire.

Termination.

~*~*~

It was well after eleven by the time Mark turned Xander's SUV onto the small, dirt road.

The trip had been silent, each passenger lost in their own thoughts. Buffy and Angel were in the back seat, flanking Spike. He had woken up before they left, making it to the car on his own, but fell asleep soon after they got on their way. His head rested against Buffy's shoulder and she absently stroked his hand while she looked out the specially treated windows as the city trailed away to the country.

Angel dozed on and off, the strain of the last couple of days finally catching up with him. He was leaning up against the door, his head tilted back against the seat.

Willow sat in the passenger seat, next to Mark, trying to ignore the apprehension that was lacing through her. Her slim fingers twisted in her lap, and her stomach churned dangerously. Memories assailed her, pooling tears in her eyes, and threatening to crack her heart.

Mark sat silently next to her, his handsome face a stoic mask. To look at him, he seemed calm and dangerous. His inky black eyes never left the road, his long fingered hands never strayed from the wheel. He seemed ready for anything. The only thing was, that wasn't completely the truth. He could kill a demon without blinking. He could jump headfirst into the path of a charging Tunick demon -- large, elephant shaped beasts, that smelled like three week old garbage -- without a tremor of fear. But this, this he couldn't face as easily. As the house rose into sight, his heart slammed against his chest, and bile rose in the back of his throat.

It was a quaint, pretty little house, with whitewashed sides and dark shutters. Their headlights hit the two patches of brightly colored flowers that lined either side of the porch steps. It was two level, with a wide front porch that had a swing on it. It seemed to just beg you to come spend a lazy day swinging idly, watching the grass grow. A cat stared back at them from one of the railings, its wide green eyes reflecting in the light. It was big and fat, black with white patches on its face.

When they pulled to a stop, the cat merely blinked, seemingly unaffected by late night visitors. Willow and Mark stared at the house, each dreading going in for different reasons.

"Spike." Buffy's quiet voice broke them out of their thoughts, and they shared a brief glance before starting to get out. Buffy ran the backs of her knuckles along Spike's cheek and offered him a soft smile when his lids fluttered open. "We're here." He stared at her for a brief second, before his eyes cleared. He nodded and pushed himself up, then allowed Angel to help him slide from the car. Buffy came out right behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. To her surprise, Angel stepped aside and let her support Spike. A curious look crossed her face before she turned and started towards Mark and Willow. Spike arched a brow at how they were just standing, staring.

"It's just a house. Last time I checked, they don't bite," he quipped, giving them a ghost of his trademark smirk.

"Ever seen the Shining?" Mark shot back, offering his own, tight smile. Spike snorted and took a deep, purposeful breath. He couldn't remember the last time he was in a place like this. The air was rich with the perfume of flowers and trees, and the slight, musky scent of horses. His advanced hearing picked up on said animals, moving restlessly in their stalls, somewhere behind the house.

"Well, we can't just stand here all night," Angel prodded.

"Of course not. We're going in. Now," Willow said, her voice overly cheerful and pasting a bright smile on her face, and starting towards the steps. Her hands continured to twist in front of her, but she seemed determined. The others followed her, Mark a little slower than the rest. By the time they made it up the steps, Willow had pulled open the screen door and raised, then dropped, her hand three times before finally rapping her knuckles against the simple wood door.

No sound came from inside, and Willow cast a nervous glance at the rest of the small group. She then knocked again, this time louder. Her eyes widened to comical proportions when the sound of a voice -- a distinctly MALE voice -- drifted out to them.

"Coming!" it said, sounding disgruntled. Five mouths dropped open in shock when the door swung wide, revealing a tall, leanly built man, with the oddest colored hair they'd ever seen. Well, since Spike first showed up in Sunnydale, anyway. It was long and purple, and stuck up a bit, suggesting further that he had been asleep. He was barefoot and dressed in only a pair of boxers. Eyes the coolest shade of grey regarded them tiredly, seeming to clear up and sharpen when they landed on Willow. Recognition flared in them, followed quickly by wariness. He tensed visibly, and pulled the door a bit closer to his body.

"I-I'm sorry. I must have the wrong house," Willow stuttered breathlessly. She was blushing to the roots of her hair at seeing the stranger in his underwear, and emabarassed for waking him up. Spike was about to tell her that no she didn't, but the guy at the door beat him to it.

"No, you don't." Willow's eyes bugged when she realized he recognized her.

"D-do I know you?" she gasped, barely noticing the way Mark had taken a step towards her, ready to protect.

"No. You don't," he said again, heaving a deep sigh. "But I know you. She's not here. Had to run into town. One of the ladies she reads for was having a crisis of some sort or the other," he told her, seeming to resign himself to something. "Come in." He pushed the door open again and turned away from it, walking into the small living room to his right.

The group shared a look before Willow took a hesitant step inside, followed by Mark, who was looking dangerous, Buffy and Spike, then finally Angel. The brunette vampire closed the door and took a brief glance around, taking in the soft, pastel walls and gleaming hardwood floors with woven rugs, before moving into the living room with the others.

The purple haired man strode across the room and snatched a faded old t-shirt from the back of an ancient rocking chair. The only light in the room came from the small tv in the corner sitting on a bookcase filled with books. A fireplace rested next to this, with the rocker on the other side. A slight click was heard, then light flooded the room, allowing them to see the rest. A large area rug in soft pastels covered the floors, a couch with wooden feet, and tiny roses on its cream fabric rested against the right wall. A pillow and throw blanket indicated where the stranger had been sleeping. A simple coffee table stood in front of that, with a few magazines and books strewn across. A large window with lace curtains stood at the man's back.

As soon as they had entered the room, Willow knew she was in the right place. The energy in the air was warm and familiar. Unfortunately, it set her even more on edge than when she first knocked on the door. She turned towards the eyes that were watching her with a hawk-like intensity, and blinked nervously.

"I-I'm sorry. You know who I am?"

"Yes. Willow Rosenberg. And unless I miss my guess, that's Buffy Summers and Spike, although the hair's off. I'd say one of you was Xander Harris, but other than the dark hair and eyes, I don't see the resemblence." He pointed to the brunettes, and gave a half shrug. Spike snorted at the look Angel got on his face at that.

"Well," Mark growled, narrowing his eyes and taking a step forward. "It seems you have us at a disadvantage. Care to tell us who the hell you are?" His dark gaze glinted dangerously, to which the other man merely arched a brow.

"Mark," Willow rested a hand on his arm and gave her head a slight shake, her green eyes begging him to back down. With a sigh and a small smile, he did, but shot a glare at the man for good measure.

"Me, I'm. . ." The slamming of the front door cut him off, and six pairs of eyes turned to the living room door.

"Tara," Willow breathed, feeling her heart thud in her chest. She could feel Mark's intense gaze on her as she drank in the sight of her former lover. She could feel his apprehension, but she couldn't do anything about it. Not when all the memories and feelings were pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. What she didn't realize, was that the man behind them was staring at the two women with the same fierceness.

"I knew you were coming. I'm sorry, I was hoping to be back before you got here," Tara said, without a hint of her former stutter. She looked at all the faces in the room, smiling at each of them. When her eyes landed on the still unnamed man, she rolled her eyes.

"Johnny, why don't you put some pants on?" she said with an amused smile. "And start some coffee too, please."

"Anything you want, babe." Nobody missed the way he stressed the endearment, almost as if he was staking his claim. After he left the room, Tara walked over to Spike, smiling at Buffy before she laid a soft, warm hand against his cheek.

"Hi, Spike."

"Hey there, Glinda. You're looking good," he told her, running his blue eyes over her face. And she did. Her straight, honeyed hair was pulled into a loose knot on the top of her head. Her eyes were clear and happy, her skin practically glowing. She was wearing a soft, flowing dress that swirled around her knees and hugged her bodice, showing off her slimmer form. An air of confidence circulated around her.

"Wish I could say the same for you," she teased lightly, worry creasing her brown.

"I've been worse."

"I don't think so. But don't worry. We'll get you fixed up," she assured. Then she did something that totally shocked him, she pushed up on her toes, and brushed a gentle kiss on his mouth. "It's good to see you," she told him, smiling at his shocked expression.

"You too," he told her honestly. She turned to Buffy then.

"Why don't you take him to the room at the end of the hall. There's heavy curtains in there, he can get some rest. And so can you. Angel, why don't you help her." She turned that gaze to the brunette vamp, surprising him. He'd only met Tara once, a few years back.

"Sure." He moved to slide his other arm around Spike, surprised when he felt his childe's body vibrating with the effort it was taking to keep himself on his feet.

"Thank you, Tara," Buffy said, as they started from the room. There was so much more to say, and her impatience was threatening to explode, but the tension coming from the couple behind her urged her to keep quiet for once. Resigned to the fact that nothing was going to be done tonight, she walked with the two vamps to the room at the end of the hall.

That left Tara, Mark and Willow in the living room, staring at each other. Willow opened her mouth to try to say something, but her tongue seemed to be twisted into knots. Mark's face hardened as he watched his love, and he felt his heart crack. There was such a look of longing on her features, it hurt his eyes to look at her.

"I'm going to get the bags," he muttered, pushing past Willow and barely acknowledging Tara as he went by. The blonde girl turned to watch him go, and didn't flinch when the front door slammed. Johnny chose that moment to walk back in, wearing a pair of jeans that were almost as faded as his t-shirt, and looking a little apprehensive himself.

"Coffee's on," he told her, his eyes searching her face. He relaxed a bit when she smiled at him, but tensed again with her next words.

"Johnny, why don't you go help with the bags? Then, you can go on up to bed. You have to get up early," she reminded him, hating the flare of doubt in his eyes.

"You'll be up, later?"

"Of course. Now, go," she prodded gently, her own blue eyed gaze begging him to understand.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly, looking between them for a moment, before turning to the door.

"Do you want some coffee?" _No_ , Willow thought, I don't want some coffee. A thousand questions were springing around in her head, not the least of which was ' _Who is Johnny, and what is he to you?_ ', but she nodded and followed the blonde down the hall and into the cheery kitchen. Tara ushered her to the table that sat against the wall in front of a window that looked out into the dense trees beside the house.

"I like your house," she said, feeling stupid. She hadn't been this nervous in a long time.

"Thanks," Tara said with a smile while she poured two steaming mugs of coffee. "I can't tell you how thrilled I was to find out my grandmother had left it to me. Meant I didn't have to go back home to my father." She gave a slight shudder at the thought, then carried the mugs to the table and set them down. She then went in search of the sugar and cream.

"J-Johnny said you were doing a reading?" Willow prompted when Tara returned to the table.

"Not really. Not tonight anyway. Mrs. Carlysle called, she's the hairdresser in town, begging me to come down and tell her what the particular pattern of hair on her floor meant." The blonde rolled her eyes again and began to put sugar in her coffee. "She seems to think everything has a meaning, and she was sure the hair had fallen in the precise pattern of a goat's head." A giggle followed this. "She was sure it meant the devil had come and set up shop in her salon and was prepared to take over the citizens via her hair dryers." The two girls shared a laugh at that, and for a moment it was like they had never been apart. Then, the front door opened and closed, and the illusion was shattered.

Willow dropped her eyes as they listened to the sound of heavy footsteps climb the stairs, accompanied by muffled voices. Then, a few minutes later, a lone set came back down and went outside once more. She figured it was Mark going for a cigarette.

"So, who's Johnny?" she blurted out, feeling her face flame. Tara smiled at her, and thoughtfully stirred her spoon in her coffee.

"I'd have to say, he's probably to me what that tall, dark and handsome man is to you." She looked up and their eyes met. She gave a short laugh at the shock in Willow's face.

"Does that surprise you?"

"W-well, yeah. I mean, I thought you were. . ." Willow trailed off, not sure how to finish.

"Gay?" Tara supplied helpfully. She rested her arms on the table and pinned Willow with her calm, blue gaze. "You were the first woman I had ever been with. Like you, I had never even considered it. But, you can't tell your heart who to love, can you? And I don't think our relationship defines who I am. I'm not a title. I love who I love, and that's all that should matter. Whether they be male or female." The redhead smiled at this, and nodded.

"Yeah. I guess that's what I think, too. His name is Mark, by the way," Willow said, taking a sip of her cooling coffee.

"He seems like a good man. His aura is strong. But he's troubled. His past weighs on him heavily, and coming here has shaken his belief in your love." As Tara spoke, her voice took on an edge of power Willow had never heard in it before. Leaving the Hellmouth _had_ been the right thing for the blonde witch to do. Guilt lanced through her when the last part of Tara's speech sank in. She hadn't meant to make Mark feel like there was anything to worry about. But she had been so anxious herself, she hadn't been able to do anything for him.

"Johnny seems a little not happy about me being here, as well."

"Well, Johnny knows you were the first great love of my life. He's not sure if he can compete with that."

"Can he?" Willow cursed herself as soon as it was out of her mouth. She had no right to ask these questoins, not when she had Mark outside, wondering if he was going to lose her. "I'm sorry. Don't answer that," she said quickly, before picking up her mug and draining its contents. Tara smiled softly, and delicately sipped at hers.

"I don't think I will. It's not fair to compare," she said simply. "Now, tell me what happened.

And how I can help." She fluidly changed the subject.

"Wait, when you came in, you said you knew we were coming? How?"

"I did a reading for myself this morning," she explained.

"Oh. Well, it all started eight months ago, when Spike disappeared." Tara's face went through a range of emotions as the redhead spoke. Anguish at how the blonde was when he found his way home. Horror at the description of Spike's injuries. Shock at Mark's story of a sadistic Riley. And finally, terror at the tale of their harrowing escape. She sat, silent for several minutes after Willow finished, her slim frame trembling with emotion.

"It was good you came here. There's barriers in place no one can get through without my permission. I knew you were coming, that's how you got up to the house. In the morning, we'll put up stronger ones to make sure they can't activate the chip or the homing device before we can get them out. I'll send Johnny into town tomorrow, to make sure we have plenty of blood for him to heal. Don't worry, everything will be fine," she said, resting a reassuring hand on one of Willow's. That's how Mark saw them when he walked back inside and entered the kitchen. His eyes riveted to their joined fingers, then up to Willow's face, and saw the guilt there.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and turned on his heel.

"Mark," she called to his retreating back, her desperate eyes flicking to Tara.

"Go. He needs you," she told her with a smile. Like a shot, Willow was out of the chair and leaving the kitchen. Tara sighed, and rose to start cleaning up the cups. She didn't start when she felt strong hands slide over her shoulders and begin to gently massage. "I thought I told you to go to bed," she admonished lightly, turning into his arms.

"I couldn't sleep," he told her, resting a cheek atop her silky hair. He took a deep breath, and inhaled her sweet scent, while trying to ignore the trepidation fluttering in his stomach.

"Well, let's go up and see if we can do something about that." She raised her head to meet his eyes, and he let out a shaky sigh at the desire he saw there.

"Yeah. Sounds good." Tara left the cups in the sink, and left the light on for the couple outside, as she let her lover lead her upstairs.

  
**Chapter 12**

The moonlight played gently across the empty field behind the house, illuminating the barn that was a short distance away. Trees surrounded the field, shielding them from any harm.

Or shielding harm from us, Buffy thought, as she stared out the window into the night. Around her, sounds filtered through the air. Footsteps on the stairs, creaks from the floorboards over her head. The soft music of voices drifting from the kitchen, followed by the slam of the screen door. She didn't notice any of it though. Her mind was full of too many things, wondering what was out there, just beyond the trees.

She knew they were safe, of course. For now. Willow would never have brought them here, otherwise. Not when it was such an emotional risk for her. Or a possible danger to Tara. But, it didn't stop the worry that Riley was out there, watching, waiting. He was nothing like the man she had once known. This man was cold, calculating, full of hate. He'd told her that she'd happened to him, but she couldn't believe that. What happened between them couldn't have turned him into the sadistic monster he was now. It just wasn't possible.

She wondered if she'd done the right thing, leaving her sister and the others in L.A. What if Riley did something to them? What if he'd really gone that far off the deep end?

With a heavy sigh, Buffy pulled the thick, dark curtains closed, to shield the two sleeping vampires from the morning sun. As soon as they got Spike settled onto the bed, he fell asleep. Whatever Riley's gadget had done to his chip had wiped him out. She was glad for it, almost. He needed to heal, and sleep, with plenty of blood, was the only way that was going to happen. Already, after only the last few days, he looked healthier. His eyes still held that haunted, slightly empty look, but his humor was returning when he was awake and he didn't seem as jittery.

But, she still couldn't help wishing for the Spike of old. The one that would help her kick ass and not break a sweat. Of course, vamps didn't sweat, but that didn't matter. The point was, he was her partner and she missed him.

Buffy carefully skirted the hulking mass of bed and came to a stop next to the blonde. The dim light of the candle she'd lit cast eerie shadows across his face, making the planes seem sharper and his cheeks more hollow. _He's so beautiful_ , she thought, risking waking him up to touch a golden curl that fell across his forehead. _Like silk_ , she decided, smiling softly.

As gently as she could, she settled down into the space he'd left for her. Her eyes drifted briefly over to Angel, before going back to Spike. Since he'd shown up at her door, she'd been afraid to close her eyes, afraid that he'd been a dream. She pushed herself to stay awake, until exhaustion finally forced her to sleep. She'd wake up again, convinced she was going to find him gone, only to heave a sigh of relief that he was really there.

"How long?" Angel's voice jarred her out of her thoughts, making her start. She looked over at him and found herself pinned by curious, brown eyes.

"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion. The brunette smiled softly at her, before answering.

"How long have you been in love with him?" he practically whispered. He was fascinated by the expressions that floated across her face in a matter of seconds. Shock followed by disbelief, followed by denial, then something that looked almost like guilt. After about a minute, she seemed to settle whatever war was going on inside of her. She took a deep breath, then looked down at Spike, before raising her gaze back up to Angel.

"I'm not sure," she answered finally, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. So long, she'd carried this secret, not willing to admit it to herself, much less anyone else. But here, now, with Angel staring at her with such understanding, she didn't feel the need to lie to herself anymore. She had a good idea that the others suspected, but none of them had ever asked her. She supposed the last time she had fallen for a vampire was still too fresh in their minds. Of course, the funny thing was, here was THAT vampire in particular asking her WHEN she had fallen in love with his childe. Yep, her life had definitely taken a wrong turn into weird a long time ago.

"He's loved you for a long time, Buffy," Angel said, looking down at the peaceful face of the blonde. He was pleased to see peace, where before it had been fear, even in rest. He was resigned to the fact that the nightmares would start again, though.

"I know," Buffy replied, her words a bit clipped, the tone bringing his gaze back up to hers. She wanted to ask him what the hell he knew about it. Angel hadn't been around for years and she sure didn't think Spike was going to confide in him. She stared steadily into the eyes of her first love, wondering just when it stopped hurting to look at him.

"No you don't. You think this is new, only a few years old. I can tell you Buffy, from experience, that he's been in love with you since the first time he saw you at the Bronze." Her eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed in confusion.

"How do you know?" she challenged, barely remembering to keep her voice low.

"I may have been a bastard when I was soulless, but I was also very observant. Especially when it came to my children. Spike, despite his extreme viciousness, always wore his emotions on his sleeve. And even later, when he learned to control them, he couldn't seem to control his eyes. Everything he feels still filters through them. You just have to know what to look for." Buffy had to smile at the truth of that, recalling the times she had read Spike's reactions right, just by looking in his eyes, no matter how calm his face might have been. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, I don't think so. Me and love are unmixy things. I mean, I've had two boyfriends go all murdering psycho nut on me. I think that pretty much screams 'stay single'."

"Yeah, but he's already a murdering psycho nut," Angel said with a smile. His face turned serious quick enough, though. "He's changed who he is for you. For a demon, that's no small feat. In fact, I'd have said it was impossible. But, Spike was always different." A stab of remembered pain lanced through her heart at the fact that Spike could love her soulless and Angel couldn't. She shook it off and laid down beside the blonde.

"I'm not going to turn what has become one of the most important things in my life into some overplayed soap opera love story that will end badly. It's better we just stay friends," she said with finality.

"Buffy, don't sell yourselves short. . ." Angel began.

"Angel. I'm tired. Goodnight." With that, Buffy turned on her side away from him and Spike. Angel stared at her for a few seconds, willing her to turn back over, before giving up and laying back down himself. Neither saw the pair of bright blue eyes that opened to gaze at the back of Buffy's blonde head, or see the flash of hurt that coursed through them.

~*~*~

"Mark!" Willow called, pushing through the screen door with a squeak. Her eyes searched the yard, finally locating him on the other side of the cars. He was facing away from the house, his stance rigid and unapproachable. But approach him she did. Her heart was hammering against her chest at the stiff line of his back. She tried to concentrate on the way the moon made his hair shine almost blue and not the way his shoulders were set, or the fact that he hadn't answered her when she'd called.

"Mark?" she tried again when she was right behind him. Her hand came up to touch, only to drop to her side once more. "What you saw in there, it wasn't what it looked like," she said quickly, her voice a near whisper. No reason to beat around the bush, she thought.

"Really? It looked like two people who care a great deal for each other sharing a moment to me." Mark's deep, rough voice broke halfway though the sentence, but he pushed it out. "Isn't that what it was?" Put in those words, Willow couldn't deny it.

"I'm not going to apologize for having loved her," Willow told him, feeling a hint of anger.

"I don't want you to," he said quietly. "Loving her helped shape you into the woman that _I_ love." The snap hiss of his lighter punctuated his statement, the flame highlighting his dark face. She saw the pain etched there, without having to see his eyes. With a sigh, she took a step forward and chanced a hand on his arm. He didn't react to her touch, but he didn't pull away either.

"Mark, I love you. I'm sorry I forgot to remind you of that when we decided to come here. There was just so much left unsaid between me and Tara, I kinda got wrapped up in that. I didn't mean to hurt you. Or make you worry. We came here because this is the best chance to help Spike."

"I know that," he snapped. He saw the hurt in her clear green eyes, even in the dark and sighed. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, careful of the cigarette in his hand. "I'm sorry. I just. . .you're the first woman I've ever loved." This was said so softly, only the power of the light breeze carried it to her. She felt her heart break a little for the boy he had been. She didn't know much about his past, it was always a 'don't ask, don't tell' subject. But she did know he was an orphan and had killed his first vampire at the age of twelve. His life had been even more full of violence than Buffy's and that had to have been hard.

"Will you tell me?" she heard herself say, crossing the invisible line that had been drawn in the sand when they met. She knew all about his life as a demon hunter, the people he'd met along the way and the way he lived his life. It was the time before that, the time when he was young and scared that she knew nothing about. His smile was small and sad as he brought his cigarette up to his lips.

"Someday. Not tonight. There's enough to worry about right now, I think." Willow nodded, feeling a little disappointed. She thought she should be angry that he wouldn't tell her, that it proved he didn't trust her. However, she knew it wasn't that. She could tell-especially late at night, when dreams haunted him-that it just caused him too much pain to even think about.

"Alright," she said, stepping closer. She sighed when his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pulling her to him and holding on tight. They stood like that, for a long time, the soft night smells and sounds drifting around them. Even after Mark had stomped out the remnants of his smoke and had wrapped his other arm around her, they stayed standing together, leaning on the SUV until the first golden pink rays of the sun peeked over the horizon.

~*~*~

Dawn came awake with a start when a strong hand clamped over her mouth and a distinctively male body pressed her into the bed. She still tried to force a scream out past her tightly closed lips and the vice like fingers biting into her cheek, to no avail. Her heart hammered so hard, she imagined it bursting from her chest and coating her and her attacker with blood. Somewhere in the back of her panicked mind, she realized this was a bit morbid, but she didn't care at the moment.

"Sh," came the hissed command. She tried to struggle, only to find that the body on hers, while thin, was really, really strong. "It's me, Connor." _Oh, nice to know Angel's son is a psycho rapist. Have to remember to tell him that_ , Dawn thought, continuing to fidget. "I'm NOT going to hurt you," he insisted, his voice a bare whisper. She tried shaking her head, to dislodge his hand to tell him that sneaking into her room in the middle of the night and pinning her to the bed was probably NOT the best way to let her know that. "I'm going to move my hand now. DON'T scream. There's someone in the hotel." It was that last bit that kept her from releasing the deep breath she had taken, once his hand moved, into a high-pitched screech. It rushed out from between her lips as her eyes widened in fear.

"What?" He pressed his fingers to his lips and slid off of her. She sat up as soon as he left the bed and watched him glide across the floor to the door. He pressed himself against it and seemed to be listening for something. "Connor?" she whispered urgently. Didn't he know you didn't scare someone within an inch of their young life, tell them there was someone in the hotel, then sneak away to listen WITHOUT elaborating?

He ignored her, concentrating fully on whatever was supposedly prowling the hotel. Dawn grew tired of being the cliched girl hiding in the bed with the sheets clutched to her bosom while the man inspected for danger and got up. She padded soundlessly across the floor, to stand next to him. When he turned to talk to her again and found her right behind him, he jumped. She smiled at the impressed look he got at how easily she had snuck up on him. Having a sister who was the Slayer and growing up on the Hellmouth made stealth an almost inherent skill.

"Now care to explain what the hell is going on?" she hissed, tossing her hair angrily, thoroughly convinced this was a ruse for Connor to get in here and see her in her underwear. Too bad she always slept in a pair of ratty sweats and a tank top _. Wait, bad thoughts. You're mad at him, no thinking about letting him see you in your underwear_ , Dawn scolded herself.

Connor stared at her dumbstruck for a second, seemingly finally noticing how the tank top clung to her breasts. He flinched when her fingers snapped under his nose and her angry voice muttered "My eyes are up here. NOT in the front of my shirt."

"Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his eyes to the floor briefly, before seeming to remember what he was there for. "I was downstairs, polishing the weapons. . ."

"Wow. You sure know how to have a good time, don't you? You must be great fun at parties," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. Connor managed to hold his temper and continued between clenched teeth.

"It helps me think," he offered in way of explanation. "And I heard someone moving around in the back. At first, I thought it was Cordy or Gunn, but when I went to look, I didn't see anyone. I started back to the lobby and heard it again. I hid behind one of the columns. It was some guy. Never seen him before. And since he didn't come through the front door, I figured he WASN'T a client." Dawn, who didn't know Connor well enough to know that a joke was a rare thing from him, gasped. Visions of soldiers bursting through the doors and taking them all by force then exterminating them with extreme prejudice danced through her head.

"Did you get the others?" she asked, pressing her own ear on the door. She didn't hear anything but her own blood rushing in her head.

"No, not yet. Your's was the first room I got to. Hey!" He grabbed her wrist to keep her from turning the knob. She leveled her azure eyes on him and arched a brow. "We don't know where he is."

"And we're not going to know if we stay here," she threw back. "We have to warn the others," she insisted when his grip tightened on her wrist. Connor seemed to war internally with himself for a minute, before nodding once.

"I go first," he ordered, when she started to go out before him. She rolled her eyes heavily, but moved out of the way so he could slide out into the hall first. She was right behind him, so close in fact, that when he stopped as they turned down the next corridor, she slammed into his back. It didn't help that her eyes had been scanning the shadows and not on him. Connor managed to keep his feet, but did turn to glare at her in the dark.

"Sorry," she grumbled before they started down the hall again to the stairs leading to the veranda.

That's when it started. It seemed like every light in the hotel came on at once. Connor pulled Dawn behind one of the columns and peered around it. It seemed while he and Dawn had been talking in her room, the others had been rounded up and herded into the cavernous room below. Shouts came from the soldiers surrounding them, giving orders and directing the small group of humans to their knees in the middle of the room. The only noticeable exception was Lorne.

Dawn stifled her cry with a hand when one of the soldiers cracked the butt of his gun against a struggling Xander's chin. The brunette went down like a stone, his crumpling body making Anya cry out and rush to him.

"Why'd you hit him?" she demanded, pulling him onto his back. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed when one of the six soldiers pulled her up to her feet and yanked her away from him. Xander was then grabbed and dragged unceremoniously across the floor to the rest of them. Gunn was on his knees with the nozzle of a rifle aimed at the back of his head. His face was a mask of seething hatred, his eyes trained on Fred. He seemed prepared to risk the bullet to his brain if one hair on her head got hurt.

Cordy hovered behind them, avoiding the gripping hands of the commandoes. Her gaze darted up to the veranda as if looking for something. Connor wished there was something he could do to let her know they were alright, but he didn't want to risk being seen.

"Where's the other two?" they heard one of them ask. Dawn's eyes widened when she recognized the voice as Riley's.

"We haven't found them yet."

"They can't have gone far. Find them. The son of a vampire would make an excellent specimen."

"He's not a lab rat," Cordy snapped, taking a step forward. The sounds of guns cocking echoed through the lobby. Connor started forward at the threat to his surrogate mother, only to be stilled by Dawn's hand on his arm. She desperately shook her head, telling him to stay put.

"It would do for you to cooperate," Riley told her, fixing her with cold eyes.

"Why? You're going to kill us anyway," Cordy shot back, not showing any of the fear coursing through her. It was times like this that she wished she knew how to make that glowy thing happen. But since she didn't even understand HOW it happened in the first place, it was kind of hard to make happen at will. The smile Riley gave her made her blood run cold in her veins.

"Take them all. Then search this hotel from top to bottom. Where's the demon?"

"Already in the truck, sir," the soldier named Simmons answered. He looked a little hesitant about rounding up a batch of humans, but Riley had told them one was a vengeance demon and another was an uncatologued demon with seeing ability. There were also the two teens, who had yet to be found. One which used to be a glowing ball of green energy known as the Key and the child of two vampires. He had no problems taking them in, it was the humans that were bothering him. Even though they were helping the atrocities against God and shielding the vampire they were after, it wasn't what he signed up for. But, he was a soldier first and he would follow orders.

"Yes sir," he said, before turning to the others. "Move em out!" Gunn was yanked to his feet, gun still trained to his head and forced out the door. The women were pushed out behind him, followed by a soldier carrying the still unconscious form of Xander. Simmons followed them out to make sure they were loaded into the truck with no problems. Dawn and Connor stayed still and silent, waiting for Riley to leave, before trying to get out of the hotel themselves. They had no idea what they were going to do then, but that wasn't a pressing matter right now.

Riley stayed in the lobby, looking around like he could somehow sense they were there. He had decided to take the hotel before heading back to base and at least have SOMETHING for his troubles. And besides, he was sure the two teens would lead him straight to Buffy and Spike.

The two risked a look around the column they were hiding behind at the sound of retreating footsteps. Riley had barely cleared the front doors when Connor seized Dawn's arm and dragged her down the opposite way from the lobby. She followed silently as he dragged her through the hotel to a set of servant stairs in the back and down through the kitchen to a sewer access. It wasn't until her feet hit the cold, wet concrete of the sewer floor that she remembered she didn't have any shoes.

She didn't give it much thought, though, as she took off down the tunnel behind Connor. She didn't know how long they ran, but when he finally stopped, she felt like her lungs were about to explode and her feet were numb from running in the water. She followed him up the ladder, not letting her mind dwell on what was probably happening to the others. He led her silently through an alley to an old dilapidated building that looked like it should have been torn down during the Depression and up a set of rickety stairs.

Smells assaulted her, most of which she knew she'd rather not identify. He opened a door and let her into a room that held a bed with some blankets thrown across it, a ratty old chair and an ancient television. It had the feel of Spike's old crypt and she felt oddly comforted.

They still didn't speak, the shock of what had happened to their friends still too great. Instead, they walked over to the bed and collapsed onto the musty smelling blankets. Neither knew how long they lay awake staring at the crumbling ceiling, before sleep finally overtook them. When it finally did, their dreams were filled with nightmare images of X-files like lab rooms and their family dissected like biology experiments.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 13**

"There are five of them. Three humans, two vampires." Riley's voice rang out through the conference room, authoritative and firm. File folders lay open in front of the soldiers. Five more men were added to the original four and the Commander was briefing them on their targets. "Mark Lynch. 26, freelance demon hunter. He's been hunting and killing vampires and the like since the age of twelve. Orphaned at the age of six, due to his parents being killed by a vampire, he lived on the streets. After his first kill he was taken in by Cyrus Tanner, known demonologist. He's tough, smart and strong." Riley flipped to the next page of his file, then waited until the rustle of paper died out before continuing.

"Willow Rosenberg, 23. College student, practicing Wiccan. Very powerful. Has been aligned with the Slayer since the age of fifteen. Very experienced in magic and slaying." Another flip, some more rustling and the beautiful image of Buffy was staring up at him from the file. "Elizabeth Anne Summers. Better known as Buffy. 23. Vampire Slayer. Called at the age of fifteen, she was expelled from school when she destroyed her high school to take out Lothos. She then moved to Sunnydale, home of the Hellmouth. The oldest living Slayer, she has died twice. The first time resuscitated by Xander Harris, who we currently have in custody. The second time returned to earth by the Powers. She has battled the Master, stopped Hell from coming to earth, twice. Prevented an ascension and battled a Hell God. All in all, a tough opponent."

As the Commander talked, not one soldier interrupted or blinked an eye at what he was telling them. The things he was saying were fantastic, but since they had been trained to deal with fantastic creatures, they didn't question anything.

"Angelus. Childe of Darla, Line of Aurelius 240 years old. Once one of the most viscous and dangerous of vampires, he was ensouled around the turn of the century after killing the wrong girl. Her family was a band of gypsies, who in turn cursed the vampire with a soul, to ensure his eternal torment. Moved to Sunnydale to find the Slayer and help avert the Harvest. Killed his own sire, Darla. Lost his soul, for unknown reasons, and started a killing rampage the following year, with his childe, Dru by his side. Defeated by the combined efforts of Spike, also his childe, and the Slayer. After helping to thwart the ascension, he moved to LA and has opened his own agency for helping those with demon troubles. His crew, who is in custody as well, consists of a seer who is half demon, another demon who can read auras, a former rogue demon hunter, a former watcher and a woman who is well schooled in quantum physics."

"Sir?" A young, blonde soldier raised his hand to speak.

"Yes, Henson?"

"The watcher. He wasn't in the hotel when the others were apprehended?"

"No, he wasn't. He was acquired in his home," Riley answered, flipping another page. "And finally, William the Bloody. Spike. Childe of Angelus, former mate of Druscilla, Line of Aurelius. He is surpassed only by his sire in viciousness. He lacked the love for torture that Angel had. He was apprehended in 1999 and implanted with a behavior modification chip by Doctor Margaret Walsh. He adapted to life with the chip quickly and supposedly switched sides to begin fighting with the Slayer. He has been doing so ever since. Was reacquired eight months ago, to modify the chip and for testing. He escaped and returned to the Slayer. When we tried to apprehend him again, we were attacked by Summers, Rosenberg and Lynch. They have since fled the area."

"Have any of the others hinted at where they may be?"

"No. Despite our efforts to obtain the information, they have all remained silent. Foreseeing this, we allowed the two teenagers, Dawn Summers and Connor Angel, to go free. A tracker has been assigned to them. It will only be a matter of time before the two make their way to their sister and father, respectively. At which point, we will be able to obtain our original target." While he spoke, none of the anger he felt seeped into his voice. He was a study of control and militant discipline. None of the others realized just how personal this mission was to him and he planned to keep it that way.

"Any questions?" He looked around the room, making eye contact with each soldier. After a few seconds, he nodded briskly. "Very good. You have your orders. Be prepared to move out as soon as we know their location. Report to Dr. Abel to receive your injections." Riley closed the file and began gathering the rest of his papers while the scrape of chairs and murmur of voices filled the air around him. One by one the soldiers filed out, armed with their own files. Once they were all gone, Riley sank down into his chair. His single minded desire to catch the small group was burning out his energy. It was time to go home and get some sleep, so he could be ready when the call came in.

With a sigh, he pushed to his feet and picked up the stuff he'd need. Grabbing his jacket, he flipped off the lights as he left. Rest was now the first order of business. Revenge could wait.

~*~*~

"I don't think we should be doing this," Connor insisted as they walked through the department store. Dawn looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. She was tired and dirty and so in need of clean clothes. They'd spent the day hiding out in the abandoned building, waiting until dark to venture out. They didn't talk about what had happened, both still too afraid to contemplate what was happening. At Dawn's insistence, they made their way to the closest shopping center, so she could at least get some shoes. Connor was not happy about her choice of payment methods.

"Look, we don't have any money. We don't dare go back to the Hyperion to find any. And I can't walk around in my pj's and 'borrowed' flip flops forever. You might not mind looking like a walking advertisement for "Feed America", but I do," she snapped back. Said borrowed flip flops snapped against her feet as she walked ahead of him.

"How are we going to get this stuff out of here?" he asked. He was dressed only in a pair of jeans and a t shirt. Dawn was still in her sweats and body hugging tank. Not exactly shoplifting clothes.

"Just leave it to me, alright? I have a little experience in this," she admitted with no little shame coating her voice. After Buffy had come back, before the dancing demon came to call, Dawn had felt a little out of sorts. She'd missed Buffy so much while she was gone, and after she'd come back, the Slayer had seemed distant. Cold. So, Dawn, in an effort to get attention, got very good at lifting stuff. At first, she just snuck money. Ten from Willow's purse, five from Tara's. She'd quickly escalated to Xander's wallet, stuff at the Magic Box and finally, the Mall.

Until she was caught by Spike, that is. And the fact that it was Spike, should have made her breathe easy, but it didn't. Despite the blonde's own tendency to use the five finger discount, he was livid that she would even consider it. His anger with her wasn't its usual explosive "punch first, ask questions later" type either. No, this anger was cold, freezing in fact. He hadn't said a word to her when he caught her in the record store, five cd's expertly opened, security tags removed, and in her purse. The jacket she had on had also been newly acquired, the new smell of leather thick around her.

Not a word had been said as he glared down at her, his eyes like ice. When he turned, a look of disgust twisting his handsome features, she'd followed without hesitation. She was busted and she knew it. Spike wouldn't even consider NOT telling Buffy. It was just Dawn's luck that he was a demon with a moral code.

The shit had hit the proverbial fan when she'd gotten home. The two sisters had raged at each other through the house, slamming doors and breaking things. Willow and Spike had hidden out in the kitchen, to keep the girls away from sharp implements. Or so they told themselves. There was a trunk full of weapons in the living room after all.

When all was said and done, Dawn was instructed to return all the merchandise she had taken AND she had to get an after school job to repay the money she had taken from the Magic Box. She had wound up being grounded for two months, having to miss the Homecoming and Winter dances.

Even after she was free to leave the house again, she found that she had shadows. Everywhere she went, Spike or one of the others would show up. It got a little embarrassing.

"So, what are we going to do? STEAL everything?"

"Do you have a better idea? Cause, if you do, I'm really open for suggestions right now." She stopped her perusal of jeans and turned to glare at him. She was so going to kick his ass if he drew attention to them. Nothing was worse than being followed around by security. Unless it was being followed around by your family.

Connor scowled and dropped his gaze to the floor. He gave her a jerky shake of his head. A triumphant smile bloomed across her face.

"Okay, let's just get this over with, so we can decide what to do next." Quickly, she started to pick out two pairs of jeans and a couple of t shirts. She piled a load of other clothes on top, to hide the things she wanted. She then walked towards the young men's section and did the same for Connor. When she was done, she gave him quick instructions of what to do. She then disappeared inside of the female dressing room, after making sure that the sales people were nowhere in sight.

A little known fact about Mall security, was that only the big, well known department stores had cameras. They were also, usually, the only ones that had security guards. As soon as she shut the door, she stripped, and slid on the jeans, ripping the tags off as she went. An old trick with the magnet keeping the door closed and the tip of a pin keeping that paper stuff inside the shirt had the security tags sliding off. The other pair of jeans and t-shirt, were wrapped up in her sweats and stuffed into the bottom of the cavernous bag she had lifted from the store where she got the flip flops. On top of this, her old clothes were thrown, as well as two pairs of underwear she'd been able to snag when Connor wasn't looking.

A plain, cotton jacket was pulled on and a baseball cap hid her glossy hair from view. Connor would be shocked to learn that she had already nicked three wallets and a purse. Quickly, she rifled through them and pulled out the cash, ignoring the credit cards and doing a little bounce when she found a hundred stuffed in the lining of the purse. She counted almost two hundred dollars. Not enough to get them where they were going, but a good start. She then gathered them all up and stuffed them in her bag. She would drop them by the lost and found on their way out. As long as they weren't on their way to jail for shoplifting.

When she was done, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked completely different than when she'd walked into the store, except for the flip flops. But, as long as the sales clerks weren't paying too much attention, that wouldn't matter. Satisfied, she picked up the stack of clothes she had brought in and left the dressing room to go find Connor.

After she dumped the clothes onto the return rack, she started across the store. To keep from looking suspicious, she stopped to glance at a couple of things, then moved on. The closer she got to the entrance, the more her heart raced. Connor had gotten out alright, as he was waiting by the railing just outside the store. As usual, he looked sullen and moody, something Dawn was quickly tiring of. If anyone was in need of a tension releaser, it was him.

"Miss?" Dawn felt her stomach lurch and her mouth go as dry as dust at the sound of the voice behind her. Her brief soiree into contemplating Connor had made her forget to keep an eye on the sales clerks. Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a fake smile and turned to face the woman.

"Yes?" she said, hoping her voice sounded steady and she didn't have GUILT written all over her face. She was as tense as a strung bow, ready to sprint should it come to that. She didn't relax when the woman smiled warmly at her.

"Is there anything I can help you with? You look a little lost." The woman -- a tall, svelte, beautiful African American, whose name tag read Theodora -- asked. Dawn shook her head and gave a nervous giggle. Her fingers clutched the strap of her bag so tight, she was afraid it would snap.

"No. Thanks. I'm just looking. Didn't really see anything. I'll be going now." The teen turned to make a hasty retreat, when the voice stopped her again.

"Are you sure? Because it looks like you shop here regularly." A slender hand waved at the girls attire. A perfectly shaped eyebrow arched at the flip flops on dirty feet. Dawn swallowed and gave her another smile.

"Uhm, yeah. My sister, was just in here the other day. And she brought me home this stuff. I figured I'd stop by and see if there was anything else I might like." Both hands were around the strap now and she slumped her shoulders protectively. Her smile never faltered, even though her heart was pounding in her ears. She had never gotten caught before. NEVER. Except by Spike and that didn't count. It figured, when she actually NEEDED to get away with it, she'd get busted.

"And you didn't see anything?" the woman prompted, stopping Dawn yet again from walking away. Dawn struggled not to be rude and just walk away. Quickly. Nothing screamed SHOPLIFTER louder than a teen in a hurry. Or so most shop keepers thought.

"Well, yeah. The clothes in this store are great. I'm just browsing today. You know, so I can go home and hit the sister up for her credit card. In fact, I'm running late. So, bye."

"Look. I let your friend walk out of here, because the two of you look to be in some sort of trouble." Dawn's heart officially stopped with the statement and her breath froze in her throat.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." When all else fails, play dumb, the teen thought. She found herself wondering vaguely if this was the sort of life the monks had in mind when they gave her human form. Somehow, she didn't think so.

"Listen, honey. If you let me, I'll help you. But if you walk out of this store, I'll have to call security." The woman's face was kind and full of understanding.

"Why would you do that?" Dawn heard herself ask. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She found herself wishing that she could tell this woman her troubles. She somehow thought, though, that Theodora wouldn't understand the life of a former Key turned teen who had a vampire slayer for a sister.

"I used to be like you. Young, scared. Thinking that stealing was the only way to get what I needed. It's okay. Let's end this now. Get your friend back in here and we'll see what we can do for you." A snort was the only answer she got. That, along with the lone tear that slipped from Dawn's wide, azure eyes. She shifted on her feet and slid them out of the flip flops.

"You can't help me." She managed around her closed throat. The woman's face flooded with understanding, just as the girl turned and bolted, the grimy pair of shoes the only thing left behind.

"SECURITY!" The call echoed in Dawn's head as she made it out of the store, not stopping to talk to the wide eyed Connor. He just turned and took off behind her, threading through the crowds to avoid the rent-a-cops in hot pursuit.

Youth and speed was on their side. That and the path that opened up as people cleared out of the way. Dawn headed for the first door to the outside she saw, her once again bare feet stinging from the abuse they'd been put through. She skidded to a stop when she saw the doors blocked by three more security guards the size of linebackers. Connor breezed by her, still at a full run, his face set with determination. In the time it took Dawn to blink in surprise, the three guards had been taken down by the seemingly slight teen boy.

"COME ON!" he shouted, holding a door open.

"STOP!" Dawn spurred herself into a run at the sound of how close the guards in pursuit sounded. Jumping deftly over the unconscious bodies, she bolted past Connor and out into the hot sun. Once outside, they didn't stop until they'd reached the old building. Once there, Dawn collapsed from exhaustion and pain. Her feet were raw and bleeding from the run across town. Desperation and fear seized through her, as all the events of the last two days finally hit her. With a strangled sob, she buried her face in the musty smelling bed clothes and let it loose.

She cried for her friends taken to the Initiative labs. She cried for her sister and Spike, Willow, Mark and Angel. And, she cried for herself and Connor. They were alone, with no way to help any of their friends. What were they, a normal girl with no special powers and the a boy that was the child of two vampires, supposed to do against an elite Army division?

Dawn was startled out of her misery by the feel of gentle hands and cool water on her ravaged feet. With a sniff, she raised her head and looked at Connor through puffy, red rimmed eyes. The boy didn't look up at her. He just continued to wash the blood and dirt away with a bottle of water and a piece of old sheet. Tears tracked down her cheeks again at how tender he was being.

When he was done cleaning them, he wrapped them loosely in strips of sheet. After that was finished, he raised his eyes to hers and gave her a small smile.

"We'll get you a pair of shoes tomorrow," he told her softly, before gathering up the water bottle and rag and pushing to his feet.

"Okay," she answered, her voice thick with tears. She sniffed again and turned to sit up.

"Then, I think we need to get to my dad and your sister. They'll be following us." Their eyes met again as he came to sit next to her on the bed.

"I know." It was pretty much assumed that the only reason they had been able to escape the Hyperion, was because Riley had wanted them to.

"We'll have to be careful. But I don't see any other way. We can't help the others ourselves."

"Yeah," Dawn agreed. They stared at each other for a few more minutes, each feeling the swirl of attraction complicate things further still.

"You get some rest. I'll go find us something to eat." Dawn nodded, then pulled off the askew baseball cap, freeing her silky hair. Connor watched her for another minute, then got up from the bed to head towards the door. "There's some weapons hidden under that loose floorboard, next to the crate."

"Thanks," she said to his retreating back. When he was gone, she slid gingerly off the bed, wincing at the pain in her feet. She hobbled to the aforementioned board and pulled it up, cursing as she split a nail. Inside, she found a small but wicked collection of knives and stakes. Pulling out a particularly nasty looking dagger, she put the board back and shuffled to the bed. She laid down again, hiding the dagger under her pillow, then got as comfortable as she could. Exhaustion and emotional drain had her eyes drifting closed, and within seconds, she was asleep.

When Connor returned a half hour later, he didn't have the heart to wake her. Instead, he lay down next to her and wrapped her in a protective arm, then settled in to just listen to her steady breathing.

~*~*~

Spike stared unseeing at the edges of light visible around the heavy curtains on the window. Angel slept soundly next to him, while the space Buffy had occupied was now empty. Willow had come in around daybreak to get the slayer to discuss the spell that would be performed to extricate his chip. The blonde vampire had been awake ever since. Actually, he'd been semi conscious even longer than that.

She loves me, he thought. Something close to elation, but with a good coating of heartache lanced through him. How long had he wanted to hear those words from her? How long had he waited? To him, it seemed like forever, but since he'd been undead for over a century, he knew that wasn't true. Since the first time he saw her, it seemed he had waited, for something. At first, he had assumed it was the need to kill her. As the years passed by and his unlife had officially turned to shit, he realized just what it was.

He'd never held any serious hope that she would ever feel the same way about him. But still, being the sap he was, he stood by her. Even when she didn't want him too. Sure, his help had been appreciated and needed to deal with Glory. Not that he'd done a lot of good. Buffy had still had to jump into that portal. It was that moment, when he had seen her tiny, broken body laying at the base of the tower, that he knew he could never go back. He had made a promise to the lady and come hell or high water, he would keep it. If that meant jumping sides, so be it. His life was nothing without her, so what did it matter?

Then, she'd come back. Cold and scared, she had let him gather her up in his arms and carry her home to her friends and sister. He didn't care why she was back, just that she was. Everything had changed between them that night. He was no longer a thing to her. He became her friend, partner. And he had decided that was enough. He'd never have her heart, but he had her trust. Something he'd never had from anyone before, even as a human.

Eight months ago, when the nightmare began, the only thing that had kept him from finding some way to dust himself, had been the thought that she WOULD find him. Even as the months stretched on and his mind had slowly crumbled, that had been the one shining spot. Riley did his best to destroy that hope, nearly succeeding a time or two. But, each time he felt his belief waver, he would remember the way she looked at him when he had saved Dawn from Druscilla and he would be able to hang on just a little longer.

Through it all, he'd buried his hope that she would ever love him. And now that he knew she did, it was bittersweet. She'd never let her feelings be known to him. All because of his poof sire and Captain Cardboard. He was honored that his friendship meant so much to her, but it was cold comfort when he thought about what they could have.

Spike suddenly found himself with the strong desire to wake up Angel and beat him like never before for hurting Buffy so badly. In his weakened state, he didn't think he'd even make a dent in the neanderthal skull of the older vamp. He was pretty sure Angel would let him, but it really wouldn't do any good. The damage had been done, and now Spike had to live with the knowledge that she loved him, but would never act on it.

Life sucks, he decided, glaring at the slumbering form next to him. A soft knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" he called, smiling when Tara popped her head inside.

"Good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, walking inside.

"Better," he answered truthfully. He still had pain in his head from whatever Riley had done to his chip, but it wasn't the blinding kind it had been.

"I'm glad. We're almost ready. Do you feel up to coming into the kitchen to get some blood? I can bring it in here, if you'd like."

"Where's Buffy?" She gave him an understanding smile.

"She went into town with Johnny and Willow to get the supplies. I didn't have everything here." Spike nodded.

"Be a luv and bring it in here, alright? And could you ask Mark for a cig?"

"Sure. I'll be back in a minute."

"Glinda?" Tara paused by the door, her brow creased in question. "Thanks," he said lamely, fighting the emotions swirling through him. It still amazed him that these people cared so much for him.

"You're welcome," she answered simply, smiling again. "I'll just be a minute." Spike nodded again and watched her leave.

With a sigh, he laid back down on the pillows. The lingering scent of the Slayer assailed his senses, bringing him back to his thoughts of a few minutes ago.

She loves me, he thought again, this time allowing the hope to bloom fully in his chest. Snuggling closer to the smell of his love, he let it envelope him, comfort him. He'd just have to show her, he decided finally, that their relationship didn't have to be like her others. Or his for that matter. Once the chip was out and he had his rocks back, he'd show her. The electricity that sparked between them whenever they were in the same room didn't happen everyday, she had to realize that. He just had to remind her.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Spike settled more comfortably onto the bed to wait for Tara's return. With any luck, after this mess was over, he'd be able to go back home, with his slayer by his side and in his bed.

  
**Chapter 14**

"So, Johnny. What do you do?" Willow's overly cheerful voice filled the cab of the rusty old Ford pick up. The late morning sun cascaded over the orange trees and the light breeze carried their sweet perfume in through the open windows. After a tense ride into town, where an oblivious Buffy sat enraptured in her own thoughts, leaving Willow and Johnny to sit in a heavy silence, they collected the supplies they needed. They were on their way back to the house now and the redhead had obviously had enough of the stress. Buffy smiled into the hand her chin was resting on and turned to look out the window, watching the orange trees go by.

"This and that," Johnny answered tersely. Willow waited a beat to see if he would elaborate.

"Oh? Well, uhm, that sounds interesting." She was at a loss about how to act around him. His acting all 'strong and silent' wasn't helping either. Her face brightened when another question popped into her head. "How did you meet Tara?" Buffy looked back over to them, finding that she was curious herself. Johnny cast a sideways glance at them, a wry smile on his face. Willow suddenly felt guilty for asking, but Buffy merely blinked and waited for him to answer.

Johnny looked back at the road, his strong, capable hands lightly gripping the steering wheel. He seemed to be contemplating his answer, stretching out the silence until Willow thought she would scream from it.

"Y-you don't have to," breath, "answer. I'm prying. Which I don't normally. ..do. But. . .you know. . .just trying to make. . .conversation." The witch flushed to the roots of her hair when she heard Buffy chuckle.

"You'll have to excuse her. She babbles when she's nervous," Buffy told the bemused looking man. Willow nodded in agreement and offered him a weak smile. He stared at her for a brief second, before returning it.

"I know," he said when he looked back at the road. "Tara told me." He took a deep breath, then started to speak again. "I was heading out to L.A. Taking odd jobs along the way to pay for the trip. Well, when my money ran out, I found myself here. Nice enough town." He gave a short laugh at that as he turned onto the road back to the house. "Only problem with it is, the locals didn't seem to take kindly to a man with purple hair walking into their midst." A muscle jumped in his jaw, letting them know that the next little bit of his story wasn't pleasant. "One night, I was walking back to the room I'd rented in town after work. The only job I could find was dishwasher at the bar. Well, about halfway home, I get jumped by a bunch of drunk good old boys looking for a fight. Fairness optional."

"That's horrible," Willow gasped. Buffy's eyes widened in shock, her gaze taking in his build and size. He was similar to Spike, strong and lean. But, he didn't have Spike's enhanced vampire strength. He'd go down fighting, she was sure of it. However, he would go down.

A cavalier shrug suggested he didn't care. The look on his face told them some wounds run deep.

"They didn't get away without some hurting. But, there were three of them. When I came to again, I found myself in a house I'd never seen before, with the most beautiful angel hovering above me." Willow smiled softly at the look he got on his face. This man adored Tara, she could tell. She found herself liking him immensely. "She cleaned me up, talked me into pressing charges and told me I could work around her farm if I needed money. I gratefully accepted. And haven't thought once about leaving."

"You didn't seem surprised about two vampires walking into your house last night," Buffy said. Johnny snorted at that. The house had just come into view and he finished the drive before answering. He turned fully to look at them, piercing them with his clear, grey eyes.

"Most people choose to stick their heads in the sand and not see what's right in front of them. I'm not one of those people. Monsters are real, and unfortunately, not all of them are of the demon variety."

"I know," Buffy replied as he slid out of the truck, an image of Riley rising vividly in her mind. She looked up when she felt a hand clasp hers. Willow gave her a gentle smile and squeezed her hand.

"Come on. Let's go get that chip out."

"Yeah." They both got out of the truck and stepped into the yard. The fat cat from the night before, was still perched on the railing, blinking its wide eyes at them. "Does that cat ever move? He's been there all night," she said, walking around to grab one of the bags from the bed of the truck.

"When he wants to. Usually he just sits and stares," Johnny answered with a shrug, hefting a bag and walking up the steps. The cat did move then, winding around the man's legs and following him inside.

"Well, guess he wanted to," Willow said with a laugh, following Buffy inside.

"Hi. Spike's awake," Tara said, walking up to them. The slam of the screen door sounding from the kitchen drew their attention. "Mark."

"Ah. Smoke time," the redhead chuckled, heading that direction. Buffy surrendered her bag to Tara and headed towards the bedroom.

"I'm going to go check on him." The blonde witch smiled and watched the Slayer walk down the hall, before turning to join the others in the kitchen.

~*~*~

"Hey," Buffy said quietly as she walked inside. Angel was sitting up in bed, reading, while Spike paced the room.

"Oh good. You're back. He's driving me nuts," Angel said, putting down his book. Spike shot him a glare.

"Didn't ask you to sit in here with me, did I? Don't need a bloody babysitter," he growled. Buffy didn't know whether to be happy or worried that he seemed to have regained his temper and edginess. The two former lovers shared a look, before Angel pushed up from the bed.

"I'm going to hope the curtains are drawn out there," he said with a smile. Spike snorted at that.

"Yeah, be a shame to return a big, pile of dust to the prom queen."

"He seems to be feeling better," Angel told her with a forced smile. She couldn't help but chuckle. The brunette moved around her and walked out, shutting the door with a quiet click. Buffy turned to look at the still pacing vampire and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why are you giving Angel such a hard time? He's here to help you." Spike stopped at that, fixing his electric eyes on her face. She felt her breath catch in her throat at the heat in them. Her blood started to rush through her veins and she felt that the room was suddenly stifling. He hadn't looked at her like this in so long, she'd forgotten the effect it had on her. When he started towards her, she had to fight the urge to bolt. Her heart slammed in her chest, with fear or anticipation she wasn't sure.

"Do I look like I need his help?" he asked, his voice pitched low. There was not a trace of the vampire that had shown up on her door just a few scant days ago. She suddenly found herself faced with the Spike of old, a transformation that happened so fast, she didn't know how to catch up. The only resemblance to the damaged vamp he had been was the dark blonde hair curling around his ears. His skin was normal color, his eyes clear. His lean form deliciously filled out the clothes that had hung on him just days earlier. Her eyes slid over him, wondering why she hadn't noticed the changes. Had they been that subtle? Or had she been so wrapped up in worry, that it escaped her?

"W-well, no. Not right now. But, you did. And still do." A scarred brow popped up at that.

"You consider yourself an expert on what I need?" He was too close now, crowding her. His eyes never left hers, their intensity making it hard for her to think. Spike had spent the morning doing nothing but that. He couldn't get her admission out of his head. Despite his decision to wait until after the chip was out before confronting her, he felt himself getting angry. Pretty soon, that anger had spurred him to discard his earlier decision. He didn't need the blasted chip out to get his rocks back. He'd done just fine before those military pricks got a hold of him again. He'd do so right now. He loved her, she loved him. That's all that mattered to him right now. Riley and half the US Army could burst inside right now, and he wouldn't care. As long as she told him she loved him, he'd happily fight the chip and slaughter the lot.

They couldn't take this from him, he wouldn't let them.

"Of course not," was all she could think to say. She hadn't realized she was backing up until she felt the wall press against her back. He seemed every inch the Master vampire right now. Something that thrilled and scared her at the same time. Her skin sang with the energy exuding from him. Her blood vibrated with it. She was staring into the eyes of a predator right now and she was his prey. "Spike, what. . ." Her voice trailed off when his cool fingers slid across her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Do you know what I need, Buffy?" She blinked at his question and opened her mouth to answer, but found that no sound would come out. "More than the chip coming out. More than revenge against those army bastards. Do you know what I NEED?" His voice was whisper soft now, wrapping her in a blanket of warmth. And desire. She felt it flare between them, hot and bright. Her first instinct was to run from it. But his eyes held her still, his gentle touch immobilized her.

"W-what?" she managed, the word thick with the emotions flowing around them. She had a feeling, after he answered, there'd be no going back. For either of them.

"You," he breathed. Their faces were inches apart now, and she could feel his cool breath on her lips, the sensation sending tingles skidding along her nerves. Tears pricked the back of her eyes at his admission, the softly said word thawing some of her resolve. God, she loved him. And he loved her. What the hell was her problem?

The first brush of his mouth across hers blanked out all thoughts, denials and debates. The second set her whole body ablaze with sensation. Her eyes drifted closed, her lips parted, her breath quickened. She could feel him, pressed lightly against her, his hard body molding intimately into hers.

"Let me in, Buffy," he pleaded, before claiming her mouth fully with his own. She opened for him, willingly, her heart rejoicing at the feel of his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers. Her fingers found their way into his hair, twining through the silky tresses. His mouth moved expertly over hers, tempting, tasting. When they broke for her to take some shuddering breaths, his teeth nipped her bottom lip gently. He trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear, taking the lobe in between his lips and running his tongue over it. She was clinging desperately to him now, afraid to let go. She was sure she would sink to the floor in a puddle of goo.

She turned her head, allowing him further access to the silky column of her throat. When his blunt teeth lightly bit the skin over her jugular, bright lights burst behind her eyes.

"Oh God," she gasped. Somehow, and she really wasn't sure how, her leg had found its way around his waist. The evidence of her affect on him was now pressed intimately against her center, enticing her to take him in. When his lips left her skin, she nearly cried out. Her eyes opened, hazy and dark with arousal. Her brows drew together in confusion, when he reached up and gently pulled her hands from his hair.

"This is how it could be for us, Buffy. Beautiful. Only thing stopping it is you. I love you." There, the words that had hung between them since she came back were now out in the open once again. She tried to ignore the way her heart swelled when she heard them.

"Spike, I don't know. . ." She quieted when his finger pressed lightly against her lips.

"I won't hurt you, luv. And I won't leave. Think I've proven that. It's up to you. I heard you last night, pet. I know you feel the same way. Don't compare me to those other poofs, and don't compare us to them either. We could be so good." Her heart screamed YES, but her mind still held her back. Remembered pain pierced through her, reminding her of why she was hesitating.

"I can't give you what you want, Spike," she whispered. She felt the anger that comment induced, rather than saw. Her eyes had dropped to the middle of his chest before she said them. Coward, her conscience screamed. She just didn't think she could take the hurt she was sure was in his eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Buffy. You won't. There's a difference. You don't want to get hurt again? Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, life is pain. It's what you do with it that counts. It's not pretty, it's not perfect, and if you wrap yourself up in a little bubble, you're going to get the shock of your life when it pops. Those little moments, where you allow yourself to love and be happy, that's what counts. Not how many vampires you slay, or apocalypses you avert." She understood the truth in his words. Could even admit to herself that he was right. Telling HIM that was another story.

"Your friendship means more to me than a workout in the sheets, Spike," she insisted, finally looking up at him. Displeasure rolled off of him in waves. Temper swam in his eyes. His entire body had gone rigid, his stiff stance screaming hurt.

"If that's all you would think of it as, I pity you. There's more to it than that, and you know it. Friendship and sex. . ."

"Don't mix," she snapped, cutting him off. "I don't want to lose you," she said quietly. He seemed to deflate at that, and a sad smile touched his lips.

"Oh, pet. You'll never lose me. But, denying what's between us isn't going to make it go away. It's only going to sit there, loudly making its presence known. We'll never be able to forget it. And if anything, that's what's going to destroy what you want to hold onto." He took a step back from her. She finally felt like she could take a breath again. A tear slipped from her eyes at his words.

"Is that an ultimatum?" His face softened at that, but he didn't move towards her again.

"No, luv. S'just the truth. I'll never walk away from you. Don't think I'd last too long. Could never stay away, even when you hated me." He gave a short laugh at that, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes. "I love you, Buffy." It was said in an almost pleading tone.

"I. . ." Neither would find out what she had been about to say. Even Buffy herself didn't know. A knock sounded on the door, disrupting the tension that had settled between them. Tara stuck her head inside and smiled apologetically, her worried eyes touching on the silently crying Buffy. The Slayer hurriedly wiped the tears away and plastered a false smile on her face.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. But, we're ready."

"No, that's okay. We're finished, right Spike?" She looked up at him, her hazel eyes pleading with him to understand. After a second, he sighed.

"Yeah, I think we are." She ignored the fear and hurt that sliced through her in that moment. He looked at her sadly, then turned to follow Tara out of the room. The blonde moved out of his way so he could pass, her eyes never leaving Buffy.

"Are you okay?" she asked when the vampire was gone. All Buffy wanted to do was go after Spike and pull him back into her arms. But, instead, she brightened her smile for Tara and nodded.

"Oh yeah. Nothing to worry about." She pushed away from the wall and left the room, making her way down the hall. Tara followed her, a contemplative look on her face.

~*~*~

In a busy bus station in the middle of LA, a young couple walked up to the counter. They handed over their ID's and cash and asked for two tickets north. The man, a surly, older gentleman with a few wisps of grey hair on his head, stared down at the ID's, then back up at them. The girl was tall and gangly, with jet black hair and a pair of dark sunglasses covering her eyes. The boy was also tall and thin, with short brown hair. An enormous handbag was slung over her arm. A pair of thin, wire rimmed glasses rested on his nose. He had a duffle bag in his hand. Their identification said they were both nineteen, and the bus company didn't pay him enough to argue with it.

"Okay, Randy and Joan. Here ya go. Better hurry. Bus leaves in about two minutes." He handed the girl their tickets and change, his eyes flicking to the next customer before they'd even walked away. The two moved silently away, looking neither left nor right. They hurried as fast as the girl's limping gait would allow and outside to the bus yard. No one paid them much mind when they slipped onto the bus and into two empty seats. They breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed, and that massive vehicle started to move.

So far so good, they both thought, then settled in for the long ride ahead of them.

  
**Chapter 15**

In the few minutes it took Spike to lay out his heart to her (had it only been a few minutes? Buffy couldn't be sure.) The living room went through a change. The rug and all the furniture had been moved out -- to where, she had no idea -- and replaced with a large, five pointed star drawn on the wood floor. The heavy curtains were drawn tight against the deadly sun. The only light came from the five candles situated at each of the points.

When Buffy entered the room, four of the points were already occupied. Tara and Willow stood facing each other, eyes closed in meditation. Angel and Mark stood on either side of the blonde witch, looking nervous. Spike lay in the center, ankles crossed, hands laced on his chest, eyes closed. His face was a study of calm, despite the tumultuous conversation they had just had.

"Buffy, please stand at the fifth point and lend your energy to the circle." Tara spoke without opening her eyes. Buffy wiped her palms against her denim clad thighs, then walked around the others to take position. She moved quickly, mindful of the carefully drawn lines. Once in position, her eyes fell and remained on Spike.

Despite her concentration on the man on the floor, she could feel the magic crackling in the air around them. It practically sizzled in the air, it was so intense. Buffy could feel the fine hairs on her neck raise with it and gooseflesh pimpled her flesh. When Tara started to speak -- her voice strong and sure -- the feeling only intensified. She now felt like she had something living crawling under her skin. It was more than a little unnerving, but she fought to relax.

The words swirled around them, tapping each of their strength to enforce the spell. Luckily, since her mind couldn't seem to stay focused on what Tara was saying, she wasn't required to do anything but just stand there. Her thoughts drifted, and the soft voice of the witch became like a buzz in the background. Her eyes never left the quiet form of Spike. He didn't seem to be aware of what was going on around him. He didn't blink, he didn't breathe. Granted, he didn't have to breathe, but he usually did out of habit. He just laid there, looking like a corpse.

Finding that disturbing too, Buffy ignored it, and let their conversation in the room come back to her. The feelings he'd elicited in her spread once more, further detaching her from what was going on. She barely registered Spike's body raising from the floor, or the way his eyes snapped open to stare unseeing at the ceiling. She was too caught up in the memory of their kiss to notice that his body went arrow straight, or his jaw drop open in a scream of silent pain. A red light passed over his eyes, glowing eerily in the dim room.

But, she didn't see it. Instead, she was thinking about what he said to her. Despair washed over her anew at the thought that maybe, just maybe, she had pushed him too far away this time. She tried not to think about all those months she went to bed crying into her pillow at the thought of never seeing him again. She was so caught up in her reverie, she almost missed the spray of blood that exploded from his nose.

His scream, no longer silent, pierced through her haze of the past. The sound sent her heart stuttering in her chest and her breath freezing in her throat. She took a step forward, her intent to ease his pain, but she jolted to a stop at the sound of Willow's voice.

"DON'T BREAK THE CIRCLE," she commanded, in a voice that couldn't be her own. It had deepened in timber and seemed to have an echo effect. Buffy nodded absently, her wide eyes riveted to Spike. Blood was now pouring freely from his nose and landing in deep red puddles on the floor. There seemed to be a small river forming on the wood planks. At least it looked that way to Buffy.

 _He's going to bleed to death_! her frazzled mind screamed desperately. Okay, so she didn't know if that could actually happen, but the amount of blood draining from him couldn't be good. No, not good at all.

"Why is he bleeding so much?!" she cried as the flow seemed to increase. She didn't get an answer. She looked up at Tara, but the blonde was too enraptured in the spell. A soft light seemed to be coming from her pores, illuminating her against the darkness. Buffy glanced hopefully over at Willow, only to frown when she saw the same thing. They were both speaking but the words seemed to be lost in the wind whipping around the room.

 _Why is there always wind_? Buffy though stupidly, fear threatening to close her throat.

Not finding any answers from the witches, she turned to the men. Unfortunately, they looked as horrified and lost as she felt. Angel's demon had pushed forward at the smell of his childe's blood and at the sound of his childe's pain. Gold eyes met hers briefly before quickly returning to Spike. Mark's handsome face had lost all color, making him look ashen. His dark eyed gaze was locked on the pools of blood forming on the floor. For some reason, that look on the demon hunter's face seemed to intensify her anxiety. Maybe it was because he was normally so calm and cool that caused his reaction to put further strain on the Slayer's control.

Abandoning the hope of finding any answers, she looked back up at Spike. The vampire was no longer still. He was twisting and thrashing in mid-air, his body tight with agony. His hands thrust into his hair and fisted, as if trying to contain the pain. He was vamped with the extent of it, and Buffy was vaguely relieved to see his fangs had indeed grown back.

Tears flowed steadily down her cheeks to drip unnoticed off her chin. It seemed to her, that maybe, just maybe, the blood flow was slowing down. His eyes snapped open again, the gold glowing an odd shade of orange, and landed on her. They were wild with agony, hazy with pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure if he heard her or understood. Every muscle in her tiny form was poised to spring to him. Her scream joined his when he went arrow straight again and something small fell through the air under him to land with a tiny 'plop' in one of the blood puddles. Willow and Tara swayed gently in their places, as they brought the spell to a close. Spike's now slack body drifted slowly to the floor. His eyes were closed again, from exhaustion or because he'd passed out again, Buffy didn't know.

He had no sooner landed on the ground, when the Slayer surged forward. Mark and Angel moved quickly as well. But that was to catch the witches before they slumped to the floor as well.

Mindless of the blood, Buffy dropped to her knees beside Spike, her eyes desperately searching his face.

"Spike?" she whispered, her voice tinged with fear. She could feel the sticky substance under her knees start to seep through her jeans, but she didn't care. She ran her fingers over the angular planes of his face, trying to spark some reaction from him. She could hear the others moving around her, felt one of them kneel next to her and pick something up off the floor. She glanced over at the person and saw Tara staring by her, a tired smile on her mouth. The blonde looked at her for a minute, before holding up the object in her hand.

There, perched between thumb and forefinger, and covered in blood, was the chip. Small and black, Buffy could hardly believe that was thing that had brought a master vampire to his knees.

"Why isn't he waking up?" she demanded, discarding the chip as inconsequential now.

"It took a lot out of him. He obviously lost a lot of blood. Once he's fed and rested, he'll be alright. You'll see," Tara explained gently. Buffy bit her bottom lip to stave off the trembling, and nodded.

"Jesus." All eyes turned to Johnny, who had just entered the room. He tended to like to stay out of the way when Tara was performing magic. He told her it was because he didn't want to distract her, but she knew it was because he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. His eyes were wide as he stared at the disaster in front of him.

"Johnny. Can you get the bucket and the mop?" Tara asked him. The purple haired man nodded numbly, then turned gratefully away from the sea of red that had taken over the living room. "Let's get him into the bedroom. Make him more comfortable," the blonde suggested, sending the Slayer another smile.

"Okay," she agreed, if only to have something to do.

"Mark, Angel, give us a hand here." The two men walked over to the unconscious form of the vampire, after Mark made sure Willow was alright, and carefully hoisted him off the floor. To their amazement, the witches had managed to land him in an area that wasn't soaked with blood. The only signs of it was the drying streaks on his face and on his jeans. As gingerly as they could, the two started out of the room, followed closely by Tara.

To Willow's surprise, Buffy didn't move to follow them. Instead, the tiny blond woman stared after them, still positioned on her knees.

"Buffy?" The Slayer didn't seem to hear her, and Willow walked over to her to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" Before the redhead even had a chance to see it coming, Buffy's hands were over her face, the sound of her ragged sobs filling the room. Without thought, Willow pulled her friend into her arms and rubbed her back soothingly while whispering soft words of comfort.

Johnny stood uncomfortably in the doorway, bucket and mop in hand. The sound of the girl's weeping made him want to curl up and have a good cry himself. However, since that was far from manly, -- and really, what did he have to cry for -- he set down the objects in his hands as quietly as he could and walked away, her cries echoing behind him.

~*~*~

Xander knew there had to be days that he felt worse than this. There just HAD to be. Unfortunately, his pain-clouded mind couldn't seem to come up with any. Not when his entire left side was one giant throb, or his head felt like it might explode any minute. Not to mention the fact that he was currently trying very hard not to puke up the meager rations they had allowed him that morning. If he was to get through this, he needed his strength, and tossing it all over the floor in a spectacular imitation of Linda Blair wasn't going to help.

He didn't know how long he'd been left alone this time. He tried not to think about what they were doing to the others. If he even let himself ponder for a second, he was sure he would curl up in a ball and will himself to die. He was pretty sure he could do it too, considering he was halfway there.

He didn't let himself dwell on the whereabouts of his wife. He had woken up alone, in a cubicle too small for him to stretch out in. At first, he had demanded to see Anya. That's when the pain had started. Riley -- the man he had once admired so much -- was the one to tell him he didn't have the right to demand anything. It was then that the pain started. Searing, blinding pain that clouded eyes and blanked out all thought. He couldn't let himself think about this happening to her. No, if he did, he'd go insane. And that wouldn't get any of them out of there.

Of course, he wasn't real sure what the hell he'd be able to do right now. They barely fed him. Only gave him enough water to barely quench the terrible thirst that had become his companion. When they did come in, it was to ask their questions. When he didn't answer, the pain would begin again. He didn't know how long he could hold on. He hoped he would be strong enough to accept death over betraying his friends. He was almost sure he could do it for himself, but what if it was Anya's life for theirs? That's where he felt himself faltering.

It surprised him that they hadn't pulled that card yet. Maybe having a former vengeance demon in custody meant more than finding Spike and the others. A part of him knew that was wishful thinking. But, he couldn't seem to stop himself. Another part of him was sure they would kill them anyway, so what was the point? No matter which way he looked at it, they were fucked.

The only thing that kept the tiny little sliver of hope alive in his heart, was the fact that Connor and Dawn had gotten away. He wasn't dumb enough to think that it hadn't been on purpose, but these idiots had no idea who they were messing with. Those kids weren't normal kids. And while yes, they would most probably head straight for Buffy and Angel, they weren't stupid. They wouldn't make it easy to be followed.

Xander jumped involuntarily when he heard the door to his cell slide open. It took all his will to turn his head and crack open the one unswollen eye to peer blurrily at the men coming in. Only two, besides him could fit inside, which meant much of the party had to wait outside. But Xander knew from experience that they were always willing to share their toys.

When his gaze settled on Riley, he let out a sigh and turned away again.

"Well, if it isn't Psycho Soldier. How ya doing? Catch any good vampires yet?" His words, though scratchy from thirst, were coated with a thick layer of sarcasm. He bit back the scream when a steel toed boot imbedded itself in his ribs.

"You're pathetic, Harris. Risking your life for a vampire. I knew Buffy was stupid, but I thought you had more sense than that," Riley sneered, staring down at the bruised and bloody form of the man he had once called 'friend'. Xander's harsh chuckle had him frowning though.

"That vampire is more of a man than you'll ever be. He's a demon, yeah. But he doesn't hide his evil behind a set of bars and a gun," Xander spat, glaring as well as he could with one eye, at the soldier.

"So, you're proud to call a demon friend?" Riley sounded incredulous at that.

"Yeah, pretty much," was the answer he got. Xander couldn't hold back the next scream as the cattle prod jutted roughly into his side. Riley pulled it back before the brunette could pass out. Xander slumped bonelessly against the floor, trying to breathe shallowly, since the simple act of taking in oxygen hurt like fire. His pain hazed brain barely registered the sound of footsteps as Riley got closer to him. He whimpered at the fist that yanked his head back.

"Look at me, Harris," the Soldier demanded through clenched teeth. You're just lucky I'm laying on the floor in crippling pain you asshole, Xander thought to himself while he tried to pry his eye back open. Ought to really rain on your parade and just fucking die. What would you do then for shits and giggles? He didn't even realize he was using a Spike term to mock the man in his head. After all, he was way too close to passing out again to care.

"Let me give you a little something to think about, shall I?" Riley asked, almost companionably when Xander looked at him again. "The only reason you and your little band of demon lovers are still alive is because of the key and the demon spawn. You better hope they don't lead us on a wild goose chase. You wanna know why?"

"Not particularly," Xander choked out.

"Because, if they do," Riley continued as if the man on the floor hadn't even spoken. "I will personally fillet your wife, one strip of skin at time until you tell me where they went. Do you understand me, Harris?" Xander felt his blood run cold at the threat to Anya, and had to fight to keep from lunging at Riley. He was weak, Riley wasn't. Not to mention that he had three beefed up super soldiers standing behind him. "DO YOU!" The shout echoed in the construction worker's ears for what seemed like an eternity. When the noise finally died down, he gave a short nod.

"Crystal clear, you fucking nut," he spat out. He didn't see the fist trained at his head, but he felt it. Pain exploded behind his eyes with the force of it. Riley hit him a few more times until he seemed satisfied, then dropped Xander back to the floor. The brunette forced his eye open again to watch them leave. Riley left without another word or looking back. Neither did any of the others. Except one.

Xander couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw one of them pause to look back at him, his face twisted into a frown of displeasure.

Unfortunately, before Xander had a chance to say anything, the blackness that constantly hovered over him sucked him in once more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 16**

"Where are you going?" Angel's sleep muffled voice reached Spike just as he was reaching towards the door. The blonde scowled and turned back towards his sire.

"Need a cigarette if you really must know, _Dad_." Angel quickly rolled over and sat up, picking up his shirt from the chair.

"I'll go with you."

"I don't bloody well need a babysitter to go sit on the fucking front porch and smoke. Not out here in Rebecca of Sunnybrook farms country," he snapped.

"Spike, you're still weak. You went through a lot this morning."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the news flash. As if my head splitting wasn't enough to tell me that. And I am NOT weak. I'm sick and tired of everybody running around here looking at me like I might break. I'm a god damned vampire, peaches." Spike felt at the end of his tether. He hated being weak and he hated feeling weak, and it didn't help that everybody around him was trying to make him stay weak. At least that's what it felt like to him.

He'd woken up soon after they put him in the bedroom with a fiery pain in his head. Blood had been pumped into him till he thought his skin would turn red from it. Angel had forced him to stay in bed when he realized Buffy wasn't in the room. That's when her ragged sobs had penetrated the pain haze in his brain. He wanted to get up and find her, but Tara had pressed a gentle hand to his chest and told him to let her have a little time. It took everything in him not to push off the witch and his sire and go to her. But, Tara was right, and he had decided the next move was Buffy's.

"Yeah, a vampire that just withstood months of torture AND a pretty messy chip removal spell this morning. Don't push yourself," Angel shot back.

"I'm not fucking pushing myself. I haven't had a minute to myself since I got back home. All you people hovering around me is about to make me go all bug shagging crazy. With the little voices in my head and everything. I'll be rivaling Dru soon if you don't layoff." His voice was coated with a thick layer of frustration. Angel looked into Spike's eyes then, seeing the quagmire of emotion running through him. As hard as this was on them, he'd forgotten how hard it was for Spike. After all, this had happened to him. He could also tell that something else was bothering the blonde, and it had nothing to do with pain and torture. _Well_ , he thought with a quirk of his lips, _unless you equate being in love with Buffy with pain and torture._

With a heavy sigh, Angel shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair and laid back down. He wasn't quite ready to get up after all, he decided.

"Alright, Spike. I'm sorry. We're all a little touchy and worried." Something in the way he said it pulled at Spike and the younger vampire felt a quick flash of guilt.

"I'm sure they're fine," he whispered, turning back towards the door. Angel lay staring at the closed door for a few minutes after Spike disappeared through it, his mind a torrent of images of his mate and his child.

"I hope so."

~*~*~

Spike took a deep breath of the night air as he stepped out onto the porch and put a cigarette in between his lips. The flare of the match illuminated his face in the darkness, a face that held no more signs of the abuse he'd been through. His eyes were clear as they surveyed the front yard, while taking in a deep drag of smoke. He ran a hand over his curls with a scowl, thinking that he'd ask Tara if she had any bleach. He needed to get back to feeling like his old self again and walking around with these Nancy boy curls wasn't going to help him achieve that.

He heard the screen door open behind him and groaned. _Can't I be alone for half a bloody second_? he thought crossly. Tara's scent reached his nose before she stepped next to him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes scanning the yard.

"Nice night, isn't it?" she said, flashing him a smile. Spike sighed then took another drag of his cigarette before answering.

"Yeah."

"Be a beautiful night for a walk." A scarred brow shot up as he turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes.

"What's that?"

"You know, walk, moonlight, she's down by the horse barn." He almost missed the implications of what she was saying, until that last bit. Then, he tensed and scowled, taking an angry puff off his cig.

"Well, how nice for her," he muttered, feeling anger and hurt welling up inside of him. He'd deliberately tried not to think about the Slayer, and here Glinda was forcing her to the front of his mind. Hell, he was chipless now, he could take a bite out of her for annoying him, he told himself. Tara smirked at him, as if she could read his thoughts, her eyes telling him to try. But, her face turned serious and she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"You should go talk to her. She was pretty broken up after the ritual. Let her know you're alright." Spike snorted at that, then swallowed hard against the knot that formed in his throat.

"I'm tired of chasing after her." He blinked at the stinging in his eyes and stubbornly refused to acknowledge it as tears. Tara's eyes flooded with sympathy, wondering why two people so obviously in love were wasting time like this.

"Just go to her," was all she could say, the blue of her eyes pleading with him to do so. Spike sighed and flicked his cigarette away, then looked unseeing at the yard. His unbeating heart hurt for the pain Buffy was in, but he didn't know if he could get past his own to try to talk to her. But, he knew Tara wouldn't go away until he at least agreed to it, so he gave a tense nod.

"Fine."

"Good," she said softly, then squeezed his arm before turning to go. She paused at the door, and looked back at the rigid line of his back. "Oh, and I do have some bleach. We'll take care of it tomorrow if you want." Then, she disappeared inside the house, leaving a stunned Spike staring at the door. After a second, he started to chuckle, which quickly grew into a laugh. Soon, he was sitting on the porch step, clutching his sides with the first true laughter he'd had in months.

When he'd calmed, he wiped his eyes and stood, then trotted down the steps. He'd found a renewed sense of self in the last few minutes, and his only thought now was to get to the Slayer.

This ends tonight, he thought, his long legged stride taking him quickly to the horse barn. One way or the other, this was getting settled between them.

~*~*~

Buffy wandered aimlessly around the barn, pausing briefly to stroke the white and brown nose of the one horse Tara had. He huffed lightly into her hand, his large brown eyes closing in pleasure. She smiled, giving him an extra pat before moving on. She didn't hear his snort of protest. She absently rubbed her palms over her borrowed sweat pants and tried to force back the thoughts that had been plaguing her.

After she had broken down in Willow's arms, the redhead had coaxed her upstairs, after magically cleaning up the blood on the floor. Buffy remembered thinking Johnny would be grateful for that. Meant he didn't have to clean it up. Once in Willow's room, the witch had found some clothes for the Slayer to change into, then remained silent as Buffy put them on.

No sooner had the sweats settled on her hips, Willow started talking.

"You know, it's been a real rough couple of days. Emotions are high, feelings that may have been repressed are coming to the surface. Things are having to be dealt with." Buffy had merely sat back down on the bed, folding her hands in her lap and looking at the floor. She didn't indicate that she had heard her friend, but Willow knew her well enough to know that she was all ears.

"When Oz left, God, what a nightmare. I thought nothing would ever heal the hole he left in my heart. Especially since he had cheated on me. I wanted the pain to stop so bad. Well, we all know how that went." She chuckled a bit, remembering the 'Do my will' spell. "Then, I met Tara. An amazing woman then, she's turned into something even more amazing. She was a surprise to say the least. And, God, did I love her. And then, she left too. Again, Willow is left heartbroken, for no other reason than the Hellmouth. I swore, when she left, no more. I couldn't take it. Love and me were obviously not meant to co-exist in the same dimension." Willow started towards the bed as she talked, until she was settled next to the Slayer, her hand stilling the twisting fingers of her friend. Silent tears tracked down Buffy's face as she listened. "Then, one night at the Bronze, I meet this man. It threw me for a loop since I had assumed that since I loved Tara, that meant I was gay. But, when he looked at me, I felt like I was the only person in the room. It wasn't easy, when we first got together. I was determined not to fall in love again, and he's got his own demons. Some of which I still don't know about. But, he is nothing if not determined. And I don't know why, but I fell. Hard. And with him, I have discovered that love's not about forever. It's a gift, for no matter how long you have it. It should be treasured while it's there, and remembered sweetly when it isn't. It's the people who love us that make us who we are, Buffy. The hurt loving someone includes, is what makes us stronger. If something happened to Mark, I would be devastated, but I would survive. Because I'll know I loved him with all my heart, and that he loved me with all of his."

Buffy looked up then, looking into her friends sympathetic green eyes. Willow reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled.

"Spike's loved you for so long, Buffy. And I know you love him. I don't blame you. He's changed so much in the last few years, because of that love. I admit, when we first found out about his little crush on you, I freaked. We all did." Buffy cringed at the memory. The way his face looked when he realized he'd been barred from her home was forever imprinted on her memory, despite her trying to deny it then. "But, now, when I look at him, I see a man that has changed despite his nature. His demon. He took on a hell god, a fall from a tower, and Xander's mouth, all because he loved you. He didn't leave when you died. He stayed, because of a promise he made to you. I see a man that I'm proud to call my friend. And I would be more than proud to call my best friend's mate." Tears were flowing freely down both girl's faces now.

"I don't want to lose him," Buffy whispered, the fear of that filling her hazel eyes with more tears.

"Oh, honey. You never will. But, if you don't admit it to yourself, all you're going to have at the end of the day are regrets. And that's no way to live."

Something in that had Buffy sobbing against Willow again, until she finally felt as if she were all cried out. She'd then given the redhead a watery smile and decided she needed to take a walk to clear her head. She'd left the room, then headed outside, after checking with Tara that Spike was resting. That walk had turned into a several hour wandering, as she traversed the field behind Tara's house, trying to get a hold on her emotions.

Now, she was in the barn, idly staring into empty stalls and fingering the bridles and tack hanging on the walls. She still didn't feel any closer to a decision, but she at least felt calmer.

When the door to the barn opened, she whipped around and found herself pinned by a pair of incredibly hot blue eyes. All of a sudden, thought didn't seem to matter as she watched him stalk towards her. The horse whinnied and stomped when Spike passed him, but neither of them noticed. The world had closed in on just the two of them, blocking everything else out.

Their eyes never broke contact during his advancement. The air around them seemed to snap with the electricity shooting between them. Something in his face and the set of his shoulders told Buffy that this was it. Whatever happened when he reached her was going to change their relationship forever. She felt a thrill speed up her spine at the thought. That was when she started towards him. She didn't let herself question her actions, just moved towards him as if a magnet were pulling them together. Just feel, she told herself.

Not a word was said between them when they finally reached each other. They stood, inches apart, bodies brushing slightly, eyes burning into each other's.

"Buffy," Spike rasped, finally, desire and want darkening his eyes to sapphire. The way her name tumbled off his lips, full of longing and love, had something inside Buffy snap. She wanted to hear it that way again, over and over until it was burned into her memory for eternity. And she wanted to hear it when he was flying over that peak, the same peak she would be cresting, his name on her lips.

Without a word, Buffy flew into his arms, fusing her mouth over his in desperation. Arms banded around his neck while legs locked around his waist in her effort to get closer, despite their clothes. Spike didn't hesitate as she settled against him, his mouth opening hungrily for her tongue to slip inside. His own arms crushed her tiny form to his, pressing her intimately against his erection. She moaned lustily into his mouth and her hips rocked gently against him.

The horse stomped and snorted in his stall, his eyes rolling with the sexual charge in the air. The didn't hear him, though, as Spike stumbled into an empty stall, sinking them both down into the hay. Just as her back hit the ground, her hands flew over his shoulders, plucking restlessly at the t-shirt he was wearing. Slow was not an option at the time, their need had been denied for so long and was consuming them. Clothes flew in their haste, neither taking the time to stop and look at what they had wanted for so long. All that mattered at the moment was the joining, the completion, the finally becoming one.

Once their skin touched, desperate moans of approval filled the air. Mouths fused together once more for tongues to dance in a desperate battle. Buffy felt the tip of his shaft brush her heat, sending delicious shivers racing over her skin. She thrust up with her hips, begging silently for him to fill her. Spike broke the kiss to look into her eyes, while one hand slipped between their bodies.

"I love you," he rasped as he slipped into her, trying to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head at the blinding pleasure ripping through him. Her heat yielded and formed around him, taking him in and searing him.

"I love you," Buffy whimpered back, wrapping her legs around his waist to urge him faster. She needed him, now. He filled and stretched her like no other had, making her feel complete. She saw that wonder flash through his eyes at her words and felt tears spring fresh to her own. She reached up with trembling fingers and traced his scarred brow, her eyes shining bright with the words she had just said. "I love you," she breathed again, when he filled her completely. His muscles trembled with his attempt to keep control, but her body surrounding him, her hands in constant motion over his skin and her words filling his ears broke the tenuous hold he had.

Buffy threw her head back when he started to move as exquisite little darts of bliss pricked her nerves. Her hips met his with each thrust, wanting him deeper, needing him fully. His lips latched hungrily onto her throat, sucking and licking the pulsing vein he found there. Brilliant bursts of light exploded behind her eyes when she felt the razor sharp tip of fangs slice delicately through her flesh. Her nails dug deep into his shoulders, making him growl against her skin, making her shiver again.

"Yes," she hissed, when the tight coil of tension in her stomach started to unfurl, causing her to arch against him, clutching him to her in a powerful grip. All too soon her climax crashed over her, filling her with a liquid warmth that burned her.

The feel of her convulsing around him, the scent of her making him dizzy and the taste of her blood on his tongue pushed Spike over the edge behind her, and before he realized what he was doing, his fangs had sunk fully into her throat, taking her essence in, making her his.

They were still shuddering when he pulled his fangs out, his tongue gently flicking over the wound to close it. He felt her fingers massaging the base of his neck, then the kiss that she pressed against his temple. That's when he looked up at her. Her eyes were soft and shining as she looked at him, her lips curved into a smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his eyes to his mark on her throat. Despite his words, she could tell he wasn't. Not that she cared.

"I'm not," she breathed back, wrapping legs and arms around him again to hold him close. She had been right to think everything would change between them. And now that it had, she had no idea why she had been so stubborn.

"Buffy, I. . ." Spike started, pulling back to look at her. She stopped his words with a finger against his lips.

"I don't want to talk. We've done enough talking. We'll figure it out later. Okay?" His eyes roamed her face, looking for what she wasn't sure. After a second, he smiled and gave her a short nod.

"Anything for you, luv," he purred, his voice thick. He pulled out of her then, and settled next to her, gathering her close. For a long time they lay like that, hands stroking softly over flesh, not talking. Then, after awhile, Spike listened to her breathing as she dozed, biding his time until he took her again. Despite his declarations to Angel, he still felt a little off. With a sigh of contentment and his fingers laced through the silk of her hair fanned out on his stomach, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep himself, wrapped in the blanket of her arms.

  
**Chapter 17**

When Buffy awoke, she didn't know how long they had been asleep. As her eyes had fluttered open, she had thought, for a brief second, that she was still caught up in some wonderful dream. She was laying, half on, half off of Spike, who was sprawled under her in a pile of hay. His arms cradled her against his chest, like she was the most precious thing in the world. All in all, and excellent way to wake up, as far as she was concerned.

With a tender smile on her lips, she propped her chin up on his chest to study him. Her heart squeezed at how very beautiful he looked. His pale skin was illuminated by the single, bare bulb that shone by the door. Shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. Tears sprang to her eyes when she caught sight of several thin, silvery scars lacing his skin. She vowed again, that Riley Finn would pay for every ounce of pain he had inflicted on her vampire. With a gentleness she didn't know she possessed, she pressed a kiss to one of the scars that lanced through the middle of one sculpted pectoral. He stirred a little, and tightened his arms around her, making her smile again.

Even with the evidence of torture scattered across his skin, he was a still a work of art. Sharp lines and sculpted plains melded together to create a beauty that had only lived in the minds of artists. Spike was a walking masterpiece, and he was hers. She laughed a little at how embarrassed he would be by that comparison. He would bluster and fuss, but secretly be pleased. He would remind her how he had been one of the most feared and vicious vampires for over a century. But, now, laying in her arms, he was just a big cat, looking for a warm place to sleep. When her lips brushed his skin again, and he started to purr, she thought the analogy was even more fitting.

Laying here with him, with his body warmed from hers, his lips still slightly swollen from her kisses, Buffy couldn't honestly say why she'd been so hesitant about taking this last step. Nothing seemed more right, more perfect than this moment.

"What're you thinking about so hard, pet?" Her eyes shot back up to his in surprise. She'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized he had woken up and was watching her.

"You," she answered simply. A wolfish grin flashed across his handsome face, making her heart skip a beat. He twined a strand of her hair around his fingers, marveling at its silky texture.

"And just what were you thinking about me?" The gleam in his eyes -- not to mention the slight thrust of his hips against her -- told her he had a pretty good idea what she had been thinking. She felt no need to correct him. A wicked smile spread across her own mouth and she slid fully onto his body to straddle him. He groaned when her heat settled comfortably on his half erect shaft. Which, now that she was nestled atop him, was quickly rising to full staff.

"This," she whispered, before her lips claimed his. The kiss was slow and thorough, a gentle play of lips and tongue that left her breathless. "And this." Her voice was husky as she reached between their bodies to grip his erection in her tiny hand. He gasped in unnecessary air and clutched her hips desperately. She looked like some kind of goddess right then. The light dancing across her golden skin, making it glow. The way her hair was tousled in a wild mass of curls from their earlier lovemaking, with little bits of straw clinging to it. Her glittering, desire-filled eyes never left his as she raised herself and positioned him at the opening to her core. The second the tip of his shaft started to slide into her slick heat, her head dropped back in pleasure. Spike though he would combust from how slow she was moving, but he resisted the urge to flip them and plunder her softness, instead letting her set the pace.

"Oh, God, Buffy," he rasped, when at last, she encased him. She raised her head then, and pinned him with her eyes. Her hazel gaze had darkened to emerald, and a light sheen of sweat had broken out on her skin. Her body was trembling with the amount of control she was using to keep her movements slow and tortuous, as she wanted to prolong it for both of them.

She stayed, unmoving on top of him, delighting in the feel of his stretching and filling her. She reached down and took his hands from her hips, kissed each fingertip before bringing them to her breasts. He immediately began to massage the soft mounds and teased her nipples with his fingers. She whimpered at the tiny darts of pleasure that sang along her nerve endings to settle with a throb where their bodies were joined. Her hips began to move in the rhythm of his fingers, making them both moan. Her nails raked over his chest, leaving thin, red welts in their wake. His growl of pleasure washed over her like a waterfall, making her increase her movements just to hear it again. He obliged her happily, and began pumping up into her, pushing deeper than before.

"Oh, Spike!" she gasped, moving even faster. When Spike dropped a hand between them, and pinched her clit, she shrieked with ecstasy. Soon, they were moving together in a frenzied motion, racing toward the climaxes that hovered, just out of reach. Buffy fell forward and fused her mouth to his, their tongues battling fiercely as her inner walls began to flutter. Spike's hands slid across her back to grip her hips again. His hard grip adjusted her angle, so that each time she came down on him, his shaft hit the sweet spot buried deep inside.

Buffy ripped her mouth away from his and keened long and loud, causing the horse to stomp nervously in his stall. Neither noticed. Exquisite pleasure coursed over them both, exploding behind their eyes in a vast array of sparks. Spike buried his face in her breasts, his face morphing as his release slammed over him.

When she felt the sharp sting of his fangs as they slid into the soft skin of her breast, Buffy cried out, her entire body shuddering with her climax. The sound of his name slipping from her lips, coated with love, the feel of her clenching tight around him, and the taste of her blood on his tongue sent his howling fully over the edge with her. She collapsed against him when the force of their release became too much for her to stay upright. They lay, huddled together, while her heart slowed and returned to normal.

The first thing Buffy realized when she came back down to earth, was that the horse was stomping and snorting in his stall like he scented a mare nearby. Spike noticed it too apparently, because his chest rumbled with a chuckle.

"Think we're turning on Mr. Ed over there," he said with a laugh. She giggled against his skin, the warm rush of air making him shiver.

"Great. Maybe we can make a fortune providing porn for horse breeders," she said with a snort.

"Absolutely not. I'm not sharing you with anyone. Especially not the equine populace."

"Don't worry, baby. You're the only stallion I want to straddle." She blushed with the badness of her own joke, but he only gave a tired laugh. She turned and looked up at him, concern marring her brow at how tired he looked. "Are you all right?" she asked, reaching a hand up to trace his scarred brow. He leaned into her touch and nodded.

"Yeah. Just a little worn out. You're a minx." His voice was light, but she could hear the fatigue in his words.

"Oh, we shouldn't have done this. You're still weak. I didn't think." She started to shift to get up, and he could tell she was going to try to usher him back to the house and to bed. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"I'm fine, Buffy. I won't break. Vampire, remember?" Her eyes were drawn back to the scars zig zagging his flesh.

"Yeah, I remember." He saw the sadness and guilt in her eyes and cursed inwardly.

"Don't. This wasn't your fault."

"Isn't it? If it weren't for me, Riley would have never. . .never done this." Her fingers moved to trace the slightly raised lines. Tears were shining bright in her eyes.

"I won't have you blaming yourself for that sick bastard's insecurity complex. He's always had it out for me, pet. I'm the one that got away." When she didn't smile at his joke, he sighed. His eyes drifted closed for a brief second while he tried to think of something to make her feel better. They shot open again when he felt the first, hot tear land on his skin. He gently cupped her cheek, tilting her head so she would look at him.

"Hey, now. None of that," he whispered, brushing the offending moisture away.

"I'm sorry," she said, the words coming out as a sob.

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

"For what happened to you. I'm so sorry they hurt you. HE hurt you."

"Sh. It doesn't matter," he tried to assure. All he managed to do however was get her to look at him like he had grown a second head.

"How can you say that? Of course it matters. They had no right to do that to you."

"I'm just a demon, Buffy. That's all I'll ever be to them," he reminded her sadly.

"No you're NOT! Don't say that. You're everything." He smiled at the fierceness of her tone. But, too soon, the fire died out of her eyes, to be replaced once more with sadness.

"Pet, please. I'm alright now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." She stared at him for a long time, as if trying to decide what she was going to say. His thumb never stopped its soothing rhythm on her skin, gathering the stray tears that dripped from her eyes.

"When I realized you were gone, it was like something vital had been taken away from me. And then, I couldn't find you. The feeling just got worse. You weren't there to talk to when I needed to vent. You weren't there if I needed help with a particularly nasty baddie. I always knew, when I went to sleep at night, that you would be under that damn tree, killing it with all your cigarettes, every night. But, then you weren't. For eight months, I looked and looked, and all I could think about was what would happen to ME if you were gone for good. All while you were being tortured by MY ex boyfriend. I am such a selfish bitch." The anger that flashed across his face with that last comment had her stuttering to a stop.

"I won't have you talking about yourself that way," he told her fiercely.

"I couldn't save you Spike." His face softened again at her quietly uttered statement. He could hear all the fear and grief she had gone through in that simple statement, and it broke his undead heart.

"But, pet. You did." She had that look on her face again. The one that said she thought he'd taken too many shots to the head. He smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "The only reason I survived that place, was you. Every night, I would go to sleep, when they let me, thinking of you. When Riley had me pushed to the point that I thought I was going to break, all I had to do was pull up your beautiful face in my mind, and I knew I could last another hour, day, month. However long it took me to get out of there and get back to you. So, you see. You saved me. Every night, you saved me." Fresh tears slid from her eyes as he spoke and a watery smile curled her lips.

"I love you," she breathed.

"I love you, too," he whispered back. He dipped his head to claim her mouth with his own, and tasted the saltiness of her tears on his lips. As if very far away, he heard the squeak of hinges as the barn door swung open. His sire's scent reached his nose, and he pulled away from Buffy with a huff.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "Go away Peaches!"

"I really hate to interrupt. . ." Angel started.

"Then don't," Spike growled in response.

"Sorry, Spike. Kinda have to." It was then that Spike noticed the hard edge to Angel's voice. He had the brief, terrifying thought that Angelus had come out to play. That lasted until he caught the whiff of fear clinging to his scent.

"Angel? What is it?" Buffy called, giving Spike a confused look. The blonde vamp just shrugged and waited for Angel to speak again. What the older vampire said next had his borrowed blood turning to ice in his veins, and turned Buffy as still as a statue on top of him.

"Connor and Dawn are here. The others have been taken.

 

  
**Chapter Eighteen**

 

  
No one spoke while Dawn told her tale. Every adult in the room was caught between shock that Riley would kidnap humans, and fear for their friends. Each remembered the way Spike had looked when he'd shown back up and the demented gleam in Riley's eyes. They didn't hold out much hope that the LA crew or Xander and Anya would fair much better. But where Spike was a vampire and could take a large amount of torture -- physically, at least -- the others weren't as strong.   
Buffy sat next to her sister, holding her hand while she spoke. Guilt lanced through her. She had a feeling she was making a mistake, leaving the others behind, but she hadn't seen any other way. And now they were in the hands of a madman. A madman she felt she created.

Angel was standing behind his son, rage cut deep into his expression. Connor stood silent, seemingly content with letting Dawn tell the story. Mark and Willow sat huddled together in one of the chairs, worry clouding their faces. Johnny hovered in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His features were etched with his disbelief that someone could be so merciless. Tara sat on the other side of Dawn, holding the other hand, lending her quiet strength.

Spike was on the end of the couch next to Buffy, his calm facade hiding the guilt and pain he was feeling. This was his fault, he was sure. None of them would have been in danger, if he hadn't stumbled back onto Buffy's porch. His sire's friends, Xander, Anya never would have been targets. Dawn and Connor wouldn't have had to run for their lives. He would never have had to feel the level of anger that Angel was feeling at having his people in danger. He never would have had to see the anguish on his love's face as she listened to her sister's narrow escape. Riley never would have gone after them if he hadn't been so selfish. Spike glanced over at Buffy as all this flew through his mind. He could see the tears glistening in the corner of her eyes and hated himself for it. No, this had to stop. He knew what Riley wanted. And he'd give it to him. The hardest part would be walking away from her, now that he knew she loved him. But, to keep her safe, to keep THEM safe, he would. His life didn't matter. They were the ones that were special, not him. A soulless demon wouldn't be missed for long.

So, with his decision made, he listened to the rest of Dawn's tale, ignoring the pain slicing through his heart.

"Then, we got on a bus and came here," Dawn finished in a quiet, dull tone. She was so tired. She'd been running on fear and adrenaline for the last few days. Now that their journey was over, fatigue seeped deep into her bones.

"Do you think you were followed?" Buffy asked her gently. Her sister raised her wide, azure eyes to hers and gave a little shrug.

"We don't think so. We didn't use our names and we changed our appearance as well as we could. But, we can't really be sure." Her gaze flicked briefly to Connor, who gave the barest of nods in agreement.

"Okay," Buffy started with a sigh. "I guess we need a plan."

"Fuck that. I'm going in there," Angel growled, eyes flashing gold.

"Oh, that'll work. Angel, it's a high security military institution. We aren't even sure WHERE it is."

"I'll find it. The longer we wait the better the chance they're going to be dead when we finally stop fucking around and get there!"

"Angel, she's right. You can't just expect to waltz in there. There's seven of us, a whole platoon of them," Willow offered, her eyes reflecting the hopelessness of the situation.

"So what? We just let them die? Sorry, not finding that acceptable," Angel snarled at the witch. He ignored the warning glance Mark sent him, too intent on his inner turmoil to notice.

"Nobody's saying that, Angel. But, we can't just go in there, half cocked and expect them to just hand them over. And there's only five of us. Dawn and Connor are staying here with Tara and Johnny," Buffy declared, her eyes telling the teens there would be no argument.

"So, what do we do?" Mark asked, turning to stare straight at Buffy. The others did as well, making her helplessness seem to triple. How was she supposed to know? She was the Slayer, not a soldier.

"Well, we need to find them first. Willow, break out the laptop and see what you find. Maybe we can do a locator spell. Do we have anything of theirs? Of any of them?"

"I have this," Angel said reluctantly. He was still all for storming in there and getting them out, but he had to admit they were right. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of lace. Buffy was about to tell him if that was Cordy's underwear, they'd find something else. Then, she realized that it was a handkerchief. Surprised that Cordy even owned one, much less gave it to Angel trickled across her face. "It was her grandmother's," was the only explanation he gave as he handed it to Tara.

"Alright, well, we also need to find out about that Amulet and how to counteract its effects."

"What did you say he called it?" Tara asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to her bookshelf.

"The charm of Tacken, I think. It all happened so quick," Willow answered, standing to help Tara.

"There's also the matter of that joy juice they're all on. Makes 'em as strong as vamps," Mark reminded them. A shudder passed over the girls as they remembered.

"Here it is!" Tara cried in triumph, pulling a slim book off the shelf. She flipped rapidly through the pages until she found what she was looking for. "Is this it?" She held the book out to Willow, who took it and looked at the picture of the amulet.

"This is it. It says the Charm of Tacken was created by the powerful wizard Tacken in the late 13th Century. He did it so other witches couldn't use their magic against him. It's the only one in existence. With its help, he took over several covens and tried to mount an army to take over the world."

"Well, that's not surprising is it? Always some bloke out for world domination," Spike said.

"He obviously didn't succeed. What happened?" Buffy asked, getting up herself to peer at the book.

"Apparently, a witch from one of the free covens joined his faction as a spy to seduce him. It worked. Tacken fell hopelessly in love with her, and one night while he was sleeping, she got it off of him. Without its power to protect him from magic, the other witches were able to usurp his control."

"So, we have to get it off of him somehow," Buffy deduced thoughtfully, biting her lip.

"I'm going to get my laptop, see what I can find out. Tara, do you need help with the locator spell?"

"No. It's fairly basic. I could use your help strengthening the barriers around the house, just in case Dawn and Connor were followed," the blond witch answered.

"Alright."

"I think we should take turns guarding the perimeter as well. Again, just in case. I'll take the first watch," Mark suggested, pushing his long frame out of the chair.

"Good idea. I'll take first watch, though. Sun will be coming up soon," Angel countered. Mark nodded, then pulled out one of his guns and handed it to him. The brunette vamp stared down at it, then gave the demon hunter a chilling smile. "I won't need that."

"Suit yourself," Mark said with a shrug. "Gonna get some shut eye. Wake me at dawn."

"Got it." The two brunettes left the room without a backwards glance.

"I'm going to get Dawn and Connor settled, they both look exhausted, then we'll start on the spells," Tara decided, looking to Willow for affirmation.

"Okay. I'll go get the computer and start with that."

"Let me know if you find anything, I'm going to go make sure Angel doesn't get any bright ideas. Like slipping off into the night to take on a bunch of soldiers by himself," Buffy told them, turning to Spike. She frowned at the look of despair she saw on his face for brief second before he covered it up with a smile.

"Guess I'll just sit here and be useless for a bit," he joked.

"You're not useless."

"Just joshing you luv. Go. Knowing Angel, he's halfway to the base by now." She hesitated for second. "Go, I'm fine. Think I'll lay down for a bit. Conserve my strength for the big rough and tumble."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now go." He eagerly leaned up to accept the kiss she gave him, thinking it tasted bittersweet. How he returned her smile, he'd never be able to say.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you. Go." He watched her leave, his eyes memorizing every line of her body to take with him when he left.

"Alright, Dawn, Connor. Let's get you to bed," Tara said kindly. Spike was surprised to find himself wrapped in a tight hug from the teen, but he returned it easily.

"Goodnight, Spike. I'm glad you're better," Dawn whispered in his ear.

"Thanks, bit. I love you." He squeezed her a bit tighter, then released her. Confusion touched her features at how sad he sounded right then, but she didn't question it. He figured she assumed it was because of the others and let her think just that. "Night, Nibblet."

"Night Spike." One by one, they left room, until it was only Johnny and Spike left. The blond vamp couldn't say he liked the way the other man was looking at him. It almost felt as if he could see right through him, and Spike didn't like that feeling one bit.

"Well, think I'll get to bed myself. Not much else to be done tonight," he said, pushing to his feet. Johnny didn't say anything, merely arched a brow and continued to study him. "Right then. Goodnight to you, too." Sarcasm dripped from Spike's voice as he walked out of the room. Again, Johnny didn't say anything. But the contemplative look he had on his face had Spike hurrying to his room, so he could implement his plan before the other man had a chance to alert anyone. He didn't know how, but he had the strangest feeling Johnny knew just what he was planning.

Once safely inside the room, he burst into a flurry of motion. The first thing he did was hunt down his duster. As soon as he slipped it on, he was glad to see that the invisibility spell hadn't worn off. He'd still have to be careful leaving the grounds, though. Between Buffy and Angel, he'd get busted for sure. And he sure didn't want to try to explain himself to them. The next thing he did was grab his sire's wallet and cell phone. He pulled out the cash Angel had and shoved it in his pocket, then tossed the empty wallet on the bed. Once that was done, he walked over to the window and slid it up, grateful that Tara oiled the glides on a regular basis.

Then, with one last look around the room, he slipped outside and headed straight for the woods beyond the house, not stopping to think about what he was leaving behind.

 

  
~*~*~

"Angel?"   
"What are you doing out here?"

"I figured I'd keep you company. Research isn't exactly my strong suit."

"Don't lie. You're out here to keep me from taking off." Angel turned to look at her, an almost amused smile curving his lip. She returned his smile with a grin of her own and fell into step next to him..

"Yep. You found me out. Gonna go all 'grr' on me?" He looked at her for a second, as if contemplating it.

"No. Don't feel like getting my ass kicked, right now," he decided. "I'm scared." Buffy heaved a deep breath and nodded.

"So am I. I'm sorry, Angel, for getting you all mixed up in this."

"Don't. I didn't have to come. Spike, as annoying as he is, IS my childe. I had to help."

"But, if we hadn't gone to the Hyperion. . ."

"They still would have been targets. Because Spike is my childe, they would have come after me eventually."

"I'm not so sure about that. It's not exactly a secret that there's no love lost between you two." Angel shrugged at that.

"Eh, he's not so bad," he admitted with a rueful smile.

"No, no he isn't," Buffy agreed, her face going soft and dreamy for a second.

"I'm glad you got over your stubbornness," he told her, grinning at the flash of anger that crossed her features. It melted instantly and she smiled back.

"Yeah, me too."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"He went to rest. He's still weak." Her brow furrowed with worry over Spike.

"He's tough. He'll be alright."

"Maybe we should leave him behind. I don't want him hurt again." Angel snorted at that.

"Not going to happen, Buffy. He'll just follow us if we don't let him come along. Especially if he thinks we did it because he's too 'weak'. He hates that."

"Yeah, I guess. But, it's going to be hard enough getting them out of there without worrying about Spike."

"Don't lie to yourself. Or me. This has nothing to do with his physical capabilities. You just don't want to let Riley have an opportunity to get his hands on him again." Angel glanced over at her, and saw the guilty truth of it on her face.

"No, I don't. That's so selfish, but with the others already in so much danger..." She stopped, unable to voice what she was feeling. The thought of losing Spike sent an oily sickness rolling through her stomach. She was worried about the others, terrified actually. But, the idea of Spike being at the mercy of Riley again made her want to heave. She'd do anything to keep it from happening.

"I understand, Buffy. The last thing I want is for Cordy to be in that place. She's half demon now. I can only imagine what those bastards are doing to her." Her heart went out to him with the pain she heard permeating his words. It hadn't been that long ago that she had felt the same.

"I'm sorry," she said again, as they both fell into silence.

They walked like that for a time, both lost in their own thoughts, until the smell of the sun sent Angel back towards the house. Buffy stayed, waiting for Mark to arrive before she went inside herself. She was trying to soothe her raw nerves with fantasies of sliding into bed next to the sleeping Spike and cuddling close for a few brief hours of sleep, when she noticed a rather bedraggled looking Willow darting from the back of the house towards her. She couldn't explain why her heart slammed hard against her chest, but something told her that she didn't want to hear what the witch was going to say to her.

"What's the matter?" she demanded as Willow skidded to a stop in front of her. The redhead had to pause to catch her breath, the worry and sorrow in her eyes causing alarm bells to sound in Buffy's head.

"It's Spike. . ." Willow gasped. Buffy took a step towards the house, fear making her stomach clench. She glared at the witch when she felt her fingers wrap around her arm. "Don't bother. He's gone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

  
Buffy stared wide-eyed at Willow for one long second, disbelief at what the redhead said widening her eyes. Then she shook off the hand gripping her arm and took off towards the house at a full run, her heart shattering in her chest with each fall of her feet on the dew-damp grass. She burst through the back door, passed Mark who was starting to head outside to take over watch, and out of the kitchen to the room she'd shared with the two vampires. There, she saw Angel, standing over the bed and holding an empty wallet. Her eyes darted around the room but she already knew he wasn't there. She couldn't FEEL him.

"Looks like you picked the wrong one to vamp-sit," Angel quipped without humor. Buffy ignored him and rushed to the open window, her heart pounding in her chest, and her stomach twisting painfully.

 _Nononononono_ , her mind screamed, over and over. He wouldn't have gone. He couldn't have. He promised her he'd never leave. There must be some sort of a mistake.

"We have to find him," she declared, turning away from the window and pushing around Angel.

"You already know where he's going."

"I know. We have to get to him before he does something monumentally stupid."

"We don't even know when he left, Buffy. He could have hours worth of a head start on us."

"So, what? We just sit here and let him turn himself over to Riley?" Buffy shrieked, her tenuous hold on her control straining just a little bit more. "How could you not know he was going to do this?" Her tiny fists landed in the broad expanse of his chest, the power of the unexpected blow sending him staggering back a few steps. Anger flooded his face, fueled by his own fear for his friends. He lashed back without thinking, his strike whipping her head to the side.

"Don't blame me for this, Slayer. If you hadn't been so concerned with whether or not I was going to run off, he'd never have had the chance to do it himself." He landed hard against the wall when her foot landed squarely into his stomach. He pushed away from the wall, face vamped, growls erupting from his throat.

"I was trying to make sure you didn't go get yourself killed. What good would you do Cordy then?" Buffy shot back, snapping out a fist that was caught effortlessly by the brunette.

"You don't know Spike as well as you think you do if YOU didn't know he would do this. He feels responsible for bringing this down on us."

"I know Spike better than anyone. Even when he was evil I knew him better than anyone. Especially YOU! You made him and you have no clue who he is. He wouldn't leave me. He promised." Buffy's other fist flung out, only to be caught as easily as the first. She was angry and hurt and more than a little scared. She didn't really know why she was fighting with Angel, other than the need to lash out and hurt, as much as she was hurting right now was overcoming her. Of course, it was also making her careless. She quickly found herself pinned with her back against Angel's chest, her arms crossed over her breasts and pinned with his strong grip.

"Let me go." Her voice was low with warning, but all he did was laugh. A sound which sent another surge of anger flowing through her, blanking out the blind panic that had set in when she first saw Willow. With a cry of war, she broke free and rounded on Angel. But before she could connect, she found herself bodily flung across the room to crash noisily against the wall.

She was on her feet as soon as she landed, her hazel eyes snapping hotly at the two witches who had walked into the room.

"Why'd you stop me?" she demanded. To her surprise, Tara was the one who turned to her, her eyes full of the same anger she herself was feeling.

"This is MY house, and you will not destroy it in some petty 'whose fault is it' game. Spike is his own man, always has been. THAT was always the problem. NEITHER of you saw tha," She shot at both of them, her eyes switching between the two. "You underestimated him. He didn't leave you. He's trying to save you. Underneath all that bluster and 'evil' crap, he still has the heart of a poet. The thing is, I was the only one to ever see it." She glared at the two of them, her harsh words stunning all in the room into silence. "Instead of playing the blame game, I think we need to decide how to get him back AND get the others out of the Initiative complex. And we won't get that done if you two are in here trying to kill each other!" With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out past the wide eyed Mark and smirking Johnny. Willow watched her go with a look of bemused awe.

"Well, I think that says it all. If you two are done, the rest of us will be in the living room trying to figure out how to save our friends. ALL of them." Willow told them, giving them each pointed looks, then left, taking Mark's hand and leading him away from the open door. Johnny looked at them, as if arguing with himself over something. Then, he stepped towards the door and gave them an apologetic glance.

"I had a feeling he was going to take off. But, I honestly thought you would catch him if he tried. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner," he told them quietly, then, not waiting for an answer, he turned to leave as well.

That left the former lovers suddenly alone, the wall of blame still hanging heavily between them. Buffy stole glances at Angel, who in turn was doing the same. Then, for whatever reason, the dam burst inside of Buffy. It started with fat, hot tears slipping from her eyes, which was followed by her slim shoulders shaking so hard she was surprised she didn't shake apart. Then, her knees turned to jelly as everything hit her at once. Her friends were in danger, her lover had run off in a misguided attempt to save them and she had no clue how the ones that were left were going to save THEM.

Angel had her before she hit the floor, gathering her tiny frame against his chest and whispering soft words in her ear. He didn't notice his own tears sliding down his cheeks, or the fear that had him clutching her a little tighter to him than he should.

"We'll get them, Buffy. Don't worry. We'll figure something out," he told her, sinking to his knees and rocking her gently, hoping that he was right, and not just lying to both of them.

 

  
~*~*~

 

Spike had no idea what the hell he was doing. What had seemed like a good idea last night, was now starting to show glaring holes in the light of day. He didn't know how far he had gotten from Tara's the night before, but it seemed he had just started out when he'd had to find shelter from the threatening sun. He supposed he should have been grateful that he'd seen the dilapidated old barn just as the sky had started to turn pink. But, sitting here, alone with nothing but time on his hands to think, grateful was the last thing he felt.

 _Well, Spikey boy, you've gone and done it again_ , he told himself as he tried to get comfortable on the makeshift bed he'd made out of his duster in a dark corner of the barn. _Acted before your head had a chance to tell your ass what it was doing_. He was annoyed with himself. Here he was, in the middle of BumFuck Egypt, with no idea where he was headed. He had been out of his mind the night he escaped the Initiative. He knew it had taken several hours to reach Buffy's, but he was heading at it from a different direction now and he didn't know which way to go. _You really are an idiot_.

He figured, by now, the others would be hot on his trail. Even though Angel couldn't help track due to the un-vampire-friendly atmosphere outside, they still had Mark. Even though he didn't know anything about Mark's success rate, he had a feeling the hunter was a tenacious bugger. Since he'd been forced to stop, it was inevitable that they would find him and then he'd get the ass kicking of his life from Buffy.

_Might as well make it easy on her and go back as soon as the sun sets. IF they haven't found me by then._

With a sigh, Spike flopped onto his back, flinching with the slight twinges of pain he still felt. Oh yeah, he was ready to take on a military complex full of soldiers. What the hell had he been thinking?

 _You were thinking that you'd play the hero, mate. Save the girl and all that_. He scowled at that. Who would've thought that he, William the God dammed Bloody would ever get the notion to SAVE somebody. Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd done it, and he doubted it would be the last. What a bloody cosmic mess his life had become. From the second he had walked into Sunnydale, everything had changed. He often wondered why the Powers that be chose him to play this little joke on. He'd always been different from the rest of them. Not as vicious as Angel, or as bloodthirsty as Darla and Dru. Not that he didn't like his share of murder and mayhem. He'd didn't have a whole chapter in the Watcher's journal's devoted to him for nothing. But it all changed the second he saw that tiny Slayer in the Bronze.

 _And what do you do, you wanker? The instant you get the girl, you leave_. But, this was different than Angel or Riley walking out on her. At least that's what he tried to tell himself. He doubted that it would feel different to Buffy. _Guess it's time to crawl back to her and hope she doesn't stake you on principle._

With that decided, Spike rolled over again, and found himself face to face with a pair of shiny black boots.

"Fuck me," he spat, rolling quickly to his feet to see that he was surrounded. _Good job Spike. Didn't even hear them come in. You're slipping._

"Hostile 17," the soldier in front of him said. Spike rolled his eyes and put on a bored expression.

"Yeah."

"If you try to resist, I have orders to stake you."

"Of course you do. Where's Finn?"

"That's of no concern to you. You'll be seeing him soon enough." Spike looked around him, trying to see if he had any chance at all of getting out of this. But, no matter what he liked to think, he wasn't at full strength yet. Plus, there was that nasty little thing called daylight outside. Even if he did get out of the barn with his hide intact, he'd be dust as soon as he stepped outside.

"Right then. Suppose we should get this over with then. Hope you have the proper traveling accommodations for me. Don't think Finn would be too pleased to have his prize delivered to him in an ashtray."

Of course," the soldier told him, in a ridiculously accommodating way. Keeping his gun trained on the blonde vampire, he stepped out of the way while three other soldiers brought in a tall, metal box, complete with locks to keep him inside.

"Oh, isn't that lovely? I hope there's room service. I'm feeling a bit peckish," Spike quipped, masking the fear that was sliding icily up his spine.

"Just get in the damn box."

"Tsk, tsk. Not very hospitable are you? Well, I'll make sure to bring that to Finn's attention." Spike wasn't sure how he managed to force his feet to move, but he made it to the box on his own power and stepped inside. He'd barely had time to turn around when the door was slammed and the click of locks sounded in his ears, the sound echoing his fate in the box. Tears stung his eyes as he felt his prison start to move and he mentally kissed Buffy goodbye.

 

  
~*~*~

 

"Alright, have we had any luck in locating the complex?" Buffy asked, walking into the livingroom. Her eyes were still puffy from her tears, but her face was a mask of calm resolve.

"I think I have a possible location. It's an abandoned warehouse about three miles outside of Sunnydale. Apparently about a year ago, the locals were complaining of strange noises and such, like construction going on late at night. Then, the complaints stopped. Just all of a sudden," Willow answered, her fingers flying rapidly over the keys of her laptop.

"You mean like, government cover up kind of sudden?" Buffy asked, moving to peer over Willow's shoulder.

"Yeah, exactly like that."

"Okay, we have a possible location. I figure we'd better track Spike then get a plan together. We want to find him before the Initiative does. The more people that are inside, the harder it's going to be to get them all out." Buffy sat down next to Willow on the floor to study the ancient blueprint of the warehouse she had pulled up. "Can you tap into their system, maybe get their passcodes?"

"Already working on it. They have a lot more security in place than the last time I did this. It's going to take some time," Willow told her, calling up another window.

"Alright, you work on that. Angel, start calling in some favors, we're going to need all the help we can get." Angel nodded and headed out into the hall to use the phone. "I'll take Mark and try to find Spike. If you come up with anything, call my cell and we'll come straight back. I don't think he could have gotten far last night." Despite herself, hope suffused each word. The redheaded witch nodded and smiled gently at her friend.

"Don't worry, we'll get them back."

"Yeah, we will. I'm not letting Finn take anything else from us," Buffy said with determination. She then pushed to her feet and looked over at the demon hunter. "Ready to go find us a stupid vampire?" "Yeah." He slid his duster on and brushed a kiss across Willow's head.

"Be careful," she whispered, her green eyes looking deep into the inky blackness of his eyes.

"Always. Happy hunting," he told her with a wink, then he turned and left the room.

"You too," Willow called as Buffy followed him out. "And Buffy, try not to stake him when you find him." The Slayer turned back and gave a sinister smile.

"Oh, I'm not going to stake him. I'm just going to kick his ass REALLY good." Willow was still chuckling when the front door closed behind them.

 

 

~*~*~

 

"He was here," Mark said softly, the heavy, black leather in his hands proving his words. Nausea rolled slickly through her stomach as she reached out to clutch the duster.

  
 _Not again_ , she denied, fighting the tears that were threatening once again. Mark stood awkwardly by, not sure what to do. The girl he had come to associate with strength and determination looked so small and frail right then, that he was at a loss. Not that he couldn't empathize. He could only imagine how he would feel if he were in her place.

Buffy struggled for a few minutes, fighting back the well of despair threatening to swallow her. _Stop it_! she told herself. _This won't help Spike, or any of the others. Pull yourself together_. When she looked back at Mark again, her eyes were shining with tears she wouldn't allow to fall, and steely conviction.

"Let's get back to the house. I'm tired of running. It's time to take these assholes down." Then, still holding the duster to her, she turned and strode out of the barn, leaving Mark to follow.

 

 

  
**Chapter Twenty**

 

  
The night was warm and thick with the sounds of the animals that surrounded the old warehouse. The people who lived in the surrounding area had no idea that the things of their nightmares were housed inside, having horrific things done to them. But, a small group did know. And they laid in wait in the dense trees, biding their time until they could go inside. Their basic plan was to storm in and hopefully not get killed. Not the most solid of plans, but it was all they could come up with. They had people inside, important people. And they couldn't wait any longer.   
"Are we ready?" Buffy whispered, looking over at her companions. Mark and Angel were staring intently at the building, searching out any weaknesses in the perimeter. Each gave her a curt nod. Willow looked a bit more nervous then they did. Her emerald eyes kept flicking between the stronghold and her lover, worry etched deeply in her face. When Buffy looked at her though, she nodded as well and took a deep breath.

"Everything's okie dokie," she said, the bright tone forced. Buffy gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand to let her know she was scared too.

"Alright, then. Let's go get our friends." Just as she was about to slip out of the shadows, a hand seized around her arm. She whipped around to see Mark, a finger touched to his lips. "What?" she hissed, annoyed. The brunette took the finger away from his mouth and pointed in the direction of the main entrance. There she saw a lone soldier making his way out of the building. And he looked like he was in a hurry. She looked back at Mark, trying to figure out what he was up to, only to see that he and Angel were slipping off through the trees toward the place the man was walking. "What are they doing?" she asked Willow, her eyes angry.

"I think they're going to try to get a hostage," Willow replied, just as confused.

"WHAT!" Buffy's voice didn't raise above a whisper, but the redhead heard the suppressed shout in it. Willow shrugged a bit, then cursed silently when Buffy took off after them. But, by the time they had reached the men, they already had the soldier -- who wasn't struggling -- pulled into the darkness of the woods and were hauling him and his gear toward the girls. The fact that he wasn't struggling was both puzzling and alarming to the women. Buffy had been sure all the soldiers would be supped up on the vamp juice. Either this one wasn't, or he would wait until the vampire and demon hunter let him go to attack. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Thought we might need a little insurance," Mark answered.

"Oh, you just thought this nice man would be our shield so we could just walk into a warehouse crawling with Initiative soldiers?" Buffy hissed, her voice angry.

"Not really, but it's better than just walking in there with nothing," Mark shot back.

"She's right," the soldier said, his eyes down.

"Who asked you?" Angel growled, vamping. The man didn't even flinch at the sight of the ridges in the dim moonlight.

"Doesn't matter. She's right. Riley would just as soon shoot me to get to you." Buffy and Willow looked horrified at this statement, but neither were surprised.

"See, and now we have to drag him with us, so he doesn't go all shouty that we're here." Buffy had just about had it with men who took off and did their own thing without thinking. And she was just about to tell them so when the soldier spoke up again.

"I won't tell. In fact, I'll get you inside." That had the small group struck silent for a minute, while each stared at him in shock.

"And why would you do that? More importantly, why should we believe you?" Angel growled. The soldier sighed, then looked straight at Buffy.

"I know where he is. I know where they all are. Do you?" Buffy frowned at that. No, they had no clue where in the compound Spike or the others were. But, the thought of just trusting the soldier to get them inside didn't seem real smart either.

"Ok, so you know where they are. That still doesn't tell us why we should trust you."

"No, it doesn't. And unfortunately, there's nothing I can do to prove I'm being sincere. So, why don't you just let me go and I'll explain why I want to help you." The four looked at each other trying to decide what to do.

"Let him go," Buffy decided. The others didn't look sure, but did what she said. Angel and Mark stayed right behind him though, just in case he tried to bolt.

"Thanks," the soldier said once he was released. "My name is Simmons."

"Well, Simmons. I'd like to say it was nice to meet you, but considering who you work for, it would be a lie anyway. Now, why are you all eager beaver to help us. Doesn't seem like the Initiative way to help the enemy." Simmons took a deep breath and ran a hand over his hair, before answering her.

"It's simple. I can't do what my commander wants me to do."

"And what does he want you to do?"

"Kill humans. That's not what I volunteered for. Demons, that's one thing. They are a plague that needs to be stopped. I won't be party to killing the people we are supposed to be protecting." Angel let out a low growl at being referred to as a plague, but didn't do anything else.

"What humans are you supposed to kill?" Buffy asked, her voice giving just the slightest tremor.

"The people we captured at the Hyperion." Angel moved before anyone even realized he had. In the blink of an eye, he had Simmons pinned against a tree, his eyes glittering gold in the moonlight.

"Angel!"

"She'd better not have one hair out of place when I find her," the brunette growled, squeezing his hand around the man's throat. Mark was trying to pry the fingers away, before the man's neck snapped.

"Angel, let him go. If you want to find her, he has to be alive," Buffy reasoned, grabbing his arm. Angel growled one more time before releasing him. The soldier landed with a thud on the ground.

"They're not dead yet," he rasped, trying to draw in gulps of air.

"That's good. But why?" Buffy asked, kneeling down.

"He needs them as bait. For you."

"Well, nice to know I'm loved. What condition are they in?" she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

"The women have been unharmed. I think the Commander realized the soldiers wouldn't stand for them to be hurt."

"And the men?"

"They were questioned rather brutally. Especially the man called Harris." Willow sucked in a breath and felt tears sting her eyes. Mark laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smile at her when she looked up at him.

"But he's still alive?"

"Yes."

"What about Spike?" Her voice held none of the sick fear that was rolling around in her stomach.

"He's still in the transport box. Riley hasn't allowed it to be opened yet." Buffy held onto the punch that she wanted to let loose and turned her mind into trying to work out a plan. She pushed aside the thought that Spike had been locked up inside a box. After all he'd been through already, who knew what that would do to him.

"Okay, so they're all still alive," she started, a thoughtful look on her face. "And soldier boy here will get us inside. But, we still have the same problem we had before. A complex full of vamped up soldiers and no idea how to defeat them."

"I think I can take care of that too," Simmons said, reaching behind his back.

"Don't think so," Angel snarled, grabbing the arm. When he pulled it up, the dim light through the trees glinted off of the two slim vials the man had in his hands.

"Essence of Vampire," Willow gasped. Buffy reached out and took them from Simmons, her teeth playing over her bottom lip while she thought. She raised her eyes to the soldier, understanding flaring between them.

"For when you want to kick it up a notch."

 

  
~*~*~

 

  
The only sound in the glaring white laboratory was the steady pounding of a fist against metal. Riley sat on a stool, a thin smile on his face while he listened to Spike's attempts to get out of the box. He was the only one in the room right now, but there were two soldiers right outside should they be needed. Not that Riley thought he would need them, but he didn't underestimate Spike for anything.

After a few minutes, he tired of the sound and picked up the keys off the metal gurney. The pounding stopped almost immediately with their jangle. Riley made sure he had the tranquilizer gun ready as he unlocked the chains keeping the box closed then stepped back. Suddenly, the door shot across the room to land with a loud crash as the box's occupant hit it with all his strength. Riley stepped in front to face the snarling vampire and calmly raised the gun so the creature could see it. Spike growled but didn't attack. In fact, he simply stepped out of the box and glared at the soldier with gold eyes squinting against the harsh light of the lab.

"Need to work on your hospitality mate. S'not polite to leave a guest stewing inside a metal box for hours on end," he snarled. His body was coiled to try to avoid the dart should Riley decide to shoot.

"Sorry. Guess I forgot to read Ms. Manners this morning," Riley answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'd be happy to teach you some," Spike told him with a grin full of fang.

"Now, Spike. We both know you can't."

"Why not? Got out of here once. That's twice I've gotten away from you, white bread. Think I'm up for a third."

"Oh, I don't think so. You see, you might be back to your old uncharming self, but you're still weak. And I still have your friends. Although, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if you just said screw it and took off. After all, you're a demon. What do you care about a bunch of humans other than as dinner?"

"Bugger off."

"That the best you can do? You're slipping, Spike."

"Well, you'll have to excuse my lack of wit right now."

"Of course. After all, it's understandable. Here you are, nothing more than a caged animal. And there's no chance of escape this time."

"Have you always had inferiority issues? I mean, what other reason is there for you to have such a hard on for me? Eh? Although, I suppose it must be hard for a bloke like you to find out your girlfriend can kick your arse with her eyes closed. Can't do much for the manhood. Then, to realize she prefers her men to be a little more exciting than an Iowa dirt farmer, gah, that can't be easy. To find out, the entire time she was tossing in the sheets with you, she was wishing for something harder and a few degrees cooler. What's it feel like to know that no matter what you pump into yourself, you're just a little too alive for her tastes?" Spike laughed when the fist plowed across his jaw, even though it sent fiery pain shooting through his skull. He staggered back against the box, gripping it to regain his balance and smirked over at the livid soldier. "Still gets to you, doesn't it? That she preferred a dead man to you. Oh, and I can tell you, she will never come back to you. I made sure of that." He ran his tongue sensuously over his fangs, making his meaning clear. Riley took a step towards him, his large frame shaking with rage. He seemed to catch himself, however, before he could reach him. Then, the soldier began to laugh himself.

"You know what, Spike? You're pathetic."

"I'm pathetic? I'm not the one needing to hide behind a gun to feel like a man."

"No, you just need to hide behind the Slayer. You're pathetic and weak. You ran to her when you got the chip, and you ran to her again after you escaped here. How does it feel to know your friends are going to die because of you? That she's going to die. And it's going to be your fault."

"You leave her alone," Spike snarled.

"Or what? You know she's going to come after you. And when she does, she'll die."

"Here now. You got what you wanted. I'm back. Leave her alone." Riley smiled, the nastiness of it sending chills up the vampire's spine.

"Oh, Spike. This isn't about just you anymore." Spike's ridges melted away and he stared at the soldier, brows drawn tight in confusion.

"How's that?"

"She sealed her fate the day she chose you over me. A human who will defend a soulless monster is an enemy to the human race and should be dealt with by any means necessary."

"NO!" the vampire lunged then, intent on ripping out the throat of the man smirking at him. He felt the sting of the tranquilizer as the dart entered his skin, but he didn't acknowledge it. A cry of victory ripped form his throat as his fingers closed around Riley's throat. But, almost as soon as he started to squeeze, he felt the blackness trying to take over. He fought it, his grip weakening with each second. Riley waited him out, not struggling against the vice-like fingers trying to crush his wind pipe. Withing seconds, Spike's fingers fells from Riley's throat and the vampire slumped against him. With a disgusted sigh, he pushed the blonde away to land with a thud on the floor. He contemplated shooting another dart in him, just because. Then, he kicked the prone form and turned to the door.

"Get him up on the gurney and chain him. Alert the scientists that Hostile 17 is available for sessions," he told the soldiers standing outside the door. He then walked away, never looking back.

 

  
~*~*~

 

  
Riley was feeling proud of himself as he walked into the huge conference room, not bothering to turn the light on. He had just gotten off the phone with his superiors to inform them of the recapture of Spike. They were very pleased and hinted that another promotion might be just around the corner. He would be happy to shake the dust of California off once again. After the Slayer and her group of merry do gooders were taken care of first, of course.

Riley grinned to himself and walked around the table to pick up the files he left there during the earlier briefing. He looked down at his notes, his grin faltering a bit when he remembered that not all of the soldiers were happy with the orders from Brass. The friends of the vampire were to be dealt with however Riley felt necessary. Simmons had been adamant that they were human and therefore not the enemy. Riley made a mental note to recommend a full psychiatric evaluation on the man.

Thoughts of promotions and problematic soldiers were pushed away when a noise drew his attention from across the room. Sharp blue eyes scanned the shadows, searching for the source. Disbelief filled his face when he saw the figure step in front of the windows, her tiny frame illuminated in the light from outside.

"Hello, Riley. That doesn't look like happiness to see me."

 

 

**Chapter Twenty One**

 

  
"Buffy?" Riley gasped, his mind scrambling to figure out how she had gotten inside.   
"That would be me," she answered pleasantly. She took a few steps closer to him, the light outside glinting off the gold of her hair. He could feel the loathing in her eyes on him, even if he couldn't see it.

"Well, this certainly makes things easy. Now I don't have to hunt you down to kill you. Although, that would have been fun, too." Riley threw his folders back on the table and moved away from it. Her gaze never left him. They were both tense, waiting for the other to attack.

"Same old Riley. Little boy playing at being a man." She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with cool eyes. The smile he gave her had revulsion sliding through her blood. His eyes raked over her body, the glint in them feral.

"Oh, I think I can show you that I am definitely a man." He easily caught the fist she flung at his face and whipped her around to press her intimately against him. He took a deep sniff of her hair, then brought his lips close to her ear. "What are you going to do now, Buffy?" Her face twisted up in disgust and a shiver ran over her.

"You're disgusting," she spat. She wasn't struggling. If Riley had stopped to think about it, he would have found it odd that she was so acquiescent. But he was too caught up in the feel of her lithe form nestled closely against him and the thought of just what he would do to her as she screamed for death.

"Come on now, Buffy. Don't be like that." His ran his tongue around the shell of her ear, the action making her stomach roll. She decided she had had enough. With a whoosh, Riley's breath left his body at the unexpected thrust of her elbow into his abdomen. He stumbled back a step, shocked at the force of her blow. She whipped around to face him, her tiny fist plowing into his nose with a satisfying crunch. A couple of chairs went flying when he staggered back.

"Ah, what's the matter Riley? You look surprised." A high kick sent him flying back into the wall. He dodged just in time to avoid the foot aimed at his head. The hole her blow left in the wall indicated his head would have been history if he'd still been there. Buffy recovered quickly and reared on him again.

"How?" he growled, dodging her next few blows. She smirked, dipping low to avoid his fist.

"I met up with Emeril outside. He gave me a little pick me up." She wanted to laugh out loud at the look of surprise that crossed his face.

"That's impossible. None of my men would turn traitor," he denied. He already knew he was wrong though. Simmons. The one that was so against harming the humans, swam in his head. But, he never would have dreamed the soldier would go this far. Rage blinded him for a brief instant, allowing Buffy to press her advantage. A hard kick to his chest had him thrown back to land on the table, the wood moaning under his weight. Buffy stood, taking several deep breaths, tense for his attack. He didn't move. Cautiously, she moved toward him. When she reached him, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each intake of air. She stood over him, her eyes searching his chest for the tell tale lump in his shirt. When she found it, she reached out, raising her eyes to his face. She ripped his shirt open, still waiting for him to move. Then, she looked down at the amulet.

"Game over," she murmured, grabbing the medallion and yanking hard. It didn't give on the first tug. Cursing silently, she wrapped her other hand around it as well and yanked again.

"Not yet." Her eyes shot up to Riley's face to see him looking at her. He grabbed her hands, trying to get them off the chain. They struggled over it for a few seconds, until Riley seized her shoulders and threw her away. Her hands never left the chain and it finally gave. "Fuck." he spat, pushing himself off the table and stalking over to her. She was up by the time he reached her, easily evading his punches. With a bounce, she flipped over his head, back flipping across the room before he had even had a chance to turn around to follow. Their eyes locked when she stopped. She held up the amulet in one hand, her eyes shooting sparks of hate, her mouth curved in a nasty smile.

"Say bye bye," she said, then snapped the amulet in half. It burst into flames causing her to drop it to the floor. For good measure, she ground the heel of her boot into it.

"You're going to die for that," he growled, launching across the room at her. Buffy slapped the watch on her arm, rolling to avoid Riley.

"It's done!" she yelled, rising to her feet. Stars flew behind her eyes when his fist landed in her face.

  
~*~*~

  
"It's done!" Buffy's voice filtered through the watch attached to Angel's arm. They were currently in the south wing of the complex, carefully avoiding the skeleton crew of soldiers milling around. Simmons was leading them to the holding area to find the others while Buffy distracted Riley.

  
"That's our cue," Angel whispered, turning to look at Willow. He was startled to see her eyes had gone opaque black. Suddenly, explosions could be heard in the distance. A siren started to sound, alerting the soldiers to the fire. The door to the containment area flew open, and several men filed out to see what the trouble was. "Here we go." The group filed out -- except for Willow -- and headed straight to the door, pausing for Simmons to put in his access code. Mark and Simmons both had their guns out, but Angel refused.

"What the. . ." the soldier murmured, punching the code in again. And then again.

"What's the problem?" Mark asked, turning to look at him. Simmons didn't answer, just tried the number again. "It's not working is it?"

"What?" Angel growled, turning away from the hall to see for himself.

"It keeps saying 'code inoperable'"

"Fuck it. Willow?" Mark called. She never acknowledged his call, but the security box suddenly exploded with a brilliant spray of light.

"You could have said 'duck' first," Angel said, patting out a smoldering spot on his jacket.

"Sorry," Mark said with a sheepish grin. Then, Simmons pushed the door open and they filed inside.

"Angel!"

"Cordy." He was in front of her cell in a second, his eyes raking over her to make sure she wasn't harmed. "Are you alright?" he asked when he couldn't find any outward damage.

"Yes. Xander's not so good. They just brought him back in here this morning. At least, I think it was morning. He hasn't moved since." Angel turned and looked around the other cells. Gunn was against the glass as well, bruised and raring for a fight. Wes was leaning against the wall, relief evident on his suddenly aged face. The other women, Anya and Fred, were talking to Mark, who was telling them to get back so he could shoot the security pads outside their cells. He assumed Xander must be in the last cell, unconscious, since he wasn't visible. Simmons was hovering close to the door, keeping watch. The sounds of explosions were still going off, only they seemed to be moving closer.

"She won't accidentally blow us up, will she?" Angel asked Mark.

"I hope not," Mark answered, sending two rounds into the pad between Anya and Fred's cells. As soon as the doors were open, the women were out, Anya heading towards Xander's cell and Fred towards Gunn's. Angel didn't wait for Mark and pulled the box off the wall, releasing Cordy and the empty cell to her right. They took a brief moment to fall into each other's arms, their fear and worry dissipating at the feel of each other.

"Angel." Reluctantly, the vampire released his mate and turned towards Mark who was walking out of the cell he assumed Xander was in, carrying the bruised and bloody brunette. Anya was trying desperately to wake him up, fear etching deep lines in her face.

"Let me take him. You guys ready?" Wes nodded, looking more tired then Angel ever remembered.

"I was born ready," Gunn told him, taking the gun Mark offered.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Nobody had to be told twice. They filed out of the room to the hall, where Willow was still setting off her diversions.

"Baby?" Mark walked over to her, careful to announce himself so she wouldn't accidently turn on him. As quickly as they had changed, her eyes returned to their normal brilliant green. She smiled up at Mark, that smile fading when her eyes landed on Xander.

"Xander?!" She hurried over to him and cupped his face in her hands. She quietly started to whisper, and a glow emanated from where her hands touched Xander. The swelling immediately started to fade around his eyes and the gashes on his face started to close. The glow grew, until it was encompassing his whole body, making his temperature almost burn the vampire carrying him.

"Oh, shit," Xander moaned, opening his eyes to see Willow. "Am I dreaming?" he rasped. That's when he saw Angel. "No, no dream. Cause you damn sure wouldn't be in it." Angel flashed him a grin and set him down on his feet when Willow released him. The brunette staggered briefly, but quickly righted himself. Then, Anya was in his arms, her hug threatening to crack the ribs Willow had just healed.

"We need to get out of here," Simmons reminded them. Mark, Angel and Willow started after him, but the others looked doubtful.

"He's our best chance of getting out of here," was all Mark said, taking Willow's hand and walking after him. Angel took Cordy's, urging her along. The others followed, not seeing any other alternative.

"Don't move!" The group came to a stop, suddenly finding themselves surrounded by at least twelve soldiers.

"Why is this stuff never easy?" Angel asked, before turning to punch the soldier closest to him.

  
~*~*~

  
As soon as Riley's fist connected with her jaw, Buffy realized the serum was wearing off. Simmons had only enough to split between her, Mark and Angel. They saved half of the second tube for when she found Spike. Pain radiated through her face, making her stomach clench with nausea, but she fought it off. Deciding dodging was the best course of action until she could slip away from him.

  
"What's the matter Buff? Your little boost of energy wearing off?" Riley sneered when she ducked under his punch. A bruise was already starting to bloom brilliantly across her chin from where he punched her.

"I've got plenty of energy to finish with you," she shot back, jumping on the table to avoid his next punch. He easily followed her, landing a foot away from her on the table.

"Then why are you running away?"

"Bored now," she said simply, jumping straight up to swing on the light over their heads. He dodged her kick and grabbed her leg, yanking hard. She and the light fixture came crashing down in a shower of plaster and wire, tangling them both. Her foot twisted painfully underneath her, inhibiting her usual speed in getting up. Riley recovered quickly; however, and grabbed a chair. Buffy turned and started to crawl away, trying to shake off the wires tangling around her legs.

"Well, too bad, Buffy. Looks like your little plan didn't work out after all."

"Sir, there's been a breach of security. Hostiles 250-256 have escaped."

"Huh?" Riley raised his head to listen to the voice coming through the com. It was all the distraction Buffy needed. With all her strength, she kicked up, slamming the chair into the underside of Riley's jaw. He screamed in pain as his teeth sank into his tongue and blood poured out of his mouth.

"God dammit!" he cried, dropping the chair with a loud clatter. She scrambled up and bolted towards the door. Pain exploded through her head when her hair was caught in a big fist. "Bitch," he spat, spraying blood over the side of her face with his words.

 _Come on Willow_! her mind screamed. A hand closed over her throat, squeezing so hard she saw spots almost immediately behind her eyes. She kicked and struggled against his hold to no avail. Her borrowed strength was seeping away fast. She was fighting for consciousness, her lungs were burning and blood was rushing wildly in her head.

Then, the grip holding her up was no longer there. Her knees hit the ground, driving shards of the broken light bulbs into her flesh through her jeans. She didn't notice it as she heaved in deep breaths of air. Her sight returned to normal and her heart slowed to a more regular beat. It was then that she turned to look at Riley. He was standing as stiff as a board, almost like he was tied up with invisible string. The eyes staring down at her were hot with rage and hate and they sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"Well, I can't say it's been fun," she said, getting to her feet, ignoring the various pains shooting through her. "But, I have a vampire to liberate." Then, she took off out of the conference room and down the hall, not wanting to be there when Willow got distracted from keeping Riley a living statue. Her mind scrambled to remember the directions Simmons gave her as she tore down the hall, praying she wasn't too late.

  
~*~*~

  
Spike had lost count of how many times he had strained against the bonds holding him. When he'd woken up he was alone and strapped down to the table. Panic had been hard to hold back as images of what had happened to him before flooded his memory. He jumped every time he heard a noise outside the door, his eyes riveting to it in terror. He cursed himself multiple times while he rubbed his wrists raw trying to get out. He was starting to contemplate the idea of gnawing his arm off when he heard several explosions start to go off around the complex. They shook the foundation and dropped a fine sheen of plaster down on top of him. Hope flared in his chest at the sound.   
He wanted desperately to be out there, fighting with them. He had no doubt the cause of the explosions was a certain red haired witch. They had come for him.

 _Buffy_. The name flitted through his mind like a beacon of light, calming the panic that had threatened to choke him.

Then, almost as if he had conjured her, the door was kicked open and she was there, a golden angel to soothe his undead heart. Their eyes locked, saying everything they couldn't. She turned and started to hunt for the keys, finding them quickly then undoing the shackles around his wrists and ankles. She helped him sit up, the silence hanging in the air between them.

"Buffy?" He reached out to touch her, just to make sure she was indeed there. Tears welled up in her eyes at his touch, before she was in his arms, their mouths fused together in a desperate kiss. When she pulled back, she slapped him, her anger stinging him more than the strike did.

"When we get home, we need to have a little talk about this hero complex of yours," she told him, brushing her fingers across his cheek to soothe. He smiled, his eyes burning into hers.

"Whatever you say, luv."

"Let's get out of here. Sounds like the others are needing a hand." They stared at each other for another second, then turned to leave. They both drew up short at the man standing in the door, blood staining his clothes and face, eyes hot with deranged anger.

"Oh, I don't think that will be possible." Riley said, leveling his gun on Buffy and closing the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Twenty Two**

 

 

Lights exploded behind Angel's eyes when the butt of a gun found its way to the back of his head. Somehow, he managed to keep his feet and spun around to face the soldier behind him. The man was aiming the gun right at his heart, making the vampire smirk.   
"Unless those are special bullets, that's not going to do much," Angel informed him before grabbing the nozzle of the gun and yanking it hard. It flew out of the surprised soldier's hands and he didn't have time to defend himself against it coming back onto his own head. He crumpled with impact, blood trickling from the gash on his head. "They never learn," Angel said with a sigh, before turning around to asses the situation. The men were in various battles around the room, with the women pounding on the soldiers with anything they could find. Anya had found a discarded rifle and was currently beating the back of the soldier who was trying to give Xander some new injuries to replace the old ones.

Fred had a crossbow -- which Angel assumed was Mark's -- and was shooting bolts at random military men. The fact that the bolts weren't doing anything to slow them down didn't deter her. She seemed to be getting a sick glee from inflicting at least a little bit of pain on them. Mark and Gunn had two soldiers on them a piece, each doing a pretty good job of fending them off. Willow was off to the side with Wes protecting her while she tried to coordinate well placed magical attacks. She had to be careful though, as to not hit her friends in the process.

Neither of them saw the soldier coming up behind them. Angel started towards them, a yell of warning on his lips when a knife zinged through the air past Willow's head to embed itself in the man's head. He fell backwards with the force, Willow and Wes never the wiser. Angel looked over at Mark, who had two dead soldiers at his feet, his face twisted with a nasty smile. He looked away from Willow long enough to meet Angel's eyes. Then, they were both attacked and the moment was gone.

Simmons was busy trying not to get himself killed by one of his former friends, the look in the man's eyes sending a shiver up his spine.

"Traitor," the man spat, trying to shove his hand down Simmons' throat. Sometimes, desperate measures had to be taken. Simmons brought his knee up hard to the man's groin, the action causing the man to loosen his hold and double over in pain. Then, the soldier hit the floor when Simmons bashed him over the back of the head with his gun.

"You're the traitor," he sneered, turning to help with the battle. The smell of smoke was starting to get thick, since Willow's explosions had caused fires to spring up all over the complex. The fire extinguishing system was offline, thanks to the hacker/witch. They had to get out soon, or else they would get caught in the blaze.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" Wes yelled. Willow's eyes were pitch black and staring unseeing at the battle in front of her. As soon as their group had hit the ground, a flare of light flashed from the fingers she had raised towards the soldiers. Simmons looked up in time to see the separate bolts of lightening attacking the soldiers that were left, the stench of burning skin filling the room. Screams filled the air as they burst into flame.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," Angel yelled as soon as the last charred body hit the floor. None of them even flinched at the gruesome scene surrounding them. None of them except Simmons. Guilt flared in him at the sight of his fallen comrades. But then the others were taking off and he didn't have any more time to think. His fate was sealed the second he gave them the serum.

The small group raced through the halls, occasionally passing the panicked scientists as they tried to get out of the building. The soldiers they passed were more interested in getting the fires put out than them, so their escape was unhindered the rest of the way.

The main entrance was clogged with bodies trying to escape, so Simmons led them back into the complex to try another way. Gun shots exploded occasionally from Mark and Gunn when an odd soldier tried to stop them. Simmons skidded to a stop in front of a coded door, praying that his number would work this time. A grim smile touched his lips when it did work, and he led them into a cavernous laboratory. Horror touched them at the demons they saw in various stages of dissection. They had been abandoned when the first explosions rang out. Most had been alive when the experiments started. They were now all dead.

"Nice place you work for here," Mark sneered, walking around the soldier and heading towards the double doors on the other side of the room. Simmons had nothing to say to the looks of disgust the group shot him as they walked past. There was nothing he could say.

"I hope Buffy and Spike are alright," Willow said, following her lover.

"They've got to be having an easier time than we did. All the damn soldiers were busy attacking us," Gunn said.

"Yeah, but they have to deal with Riley. He's insane," Anya reminded the man.

"All right, it's clear. Looks like it leads straight down and out," Mark told them, holding the door open. They filed through, heading straight down the stairs. All the occupants of the complex seemed to be in the front, trying to get out the main way. They met no one else on their way out.

As soon as they reached the bottom, they exited through the parking garage, taking off at a run at the sight of the forest in the distance. They didn't stop until they were on the edge of the trees, turning around and looking at the burning building. Nobody talked as they waited, fear gripping them tighter each second that passed without Spike and Buffy emerging from inside.

  
~*~*~

  
"Just let us go, Riley. Do you hear that? It's over. This complex will be nothing but ashes soon," Buffy said as the fire warning siren went off. The smell of smoke was getting stronger with each second. She had no idea where the fires were and didn't want to be around to find out. She hoped Riley's sudden movability was because the others had gotten out, and not because Willow was hurt or worse.   
"Well, then, I think that makes a fitting burial place for a vampire and his whore."

"Watch your mouth," Spike growled.

"Or what? Your slut will kick my ass? We all know you can't."

"Don't be so bloody sure," the vampire countered, taking a step forward. Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. It was then that he felt a prick as a needle slid into his skin. He turned wide, shocked eyes on her, thinking she had sedated him.

"Trust me. It only hurts for a second," she whispered, stepping in front of him to face off with Riley.

"Just like I thought, hiding behind the Slayer, AGAIN," Riley said with a smirk. His gun never wavered from her. Spike's scream of pain ripped through the room, bringing the Commander's eyes to him, realization settling over him when the needle Buffy was holding hit the floor with a clatter.

Buffy used his distraction to kick the gun away, sending it flying through the air to land noisily on top of a cabinet. Riley blocked her punch and sent one of his own to her head. The force of it had her hitting the ground, unconscious. Spike was slumped against the table, his body shaking while the serum worked through him. Riley pulled a stake out of his pocket, intent on ending this once and for all. He lunged at the vamp, ready to bury the wood in his back His eyes widened in surprise when Spike whipped around and seized his arm, the vice-like fingers breaking his wrist.

"Don't think so, mate. Looks like I don't need to hide behind the Slayer's skirts after all." He slapped Riley hard with the back of his free hand, holding the man up when he stumbled back. A succession of slaps sent Riley's head ping ponging back and forth, blood flowing free over his face as his skin split open under the abuse. Spike felt invigorated, and stronger than he had ever been before. A malicious smile curved his lip as he rained hits down on the soldier. Each punch was restitution for the months of torture. Each groan of pain was music to his ears. He was so intent on getting his revenge, he didn't see Riley's flaying hand manage to reach out and grab a tray until it was swinging at his head. In his surprise at the blow, he let go of the man, then had to block a barrage of hits from him. None of them really hurt, since it was obvious Riley was starting to tire and he only had the use of one hand.

"You have to die," Riley told him, mad despair coating his words.

"I will. Just not today," Spike returned, jumping over the table to dodge the next swing of the tray. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the room, but that was fine with Spike. He saw Riley swipe the stake off the floor and tensed for the next attack. He hadn't had this much fun in a while. Playing with the soldier was good for his battered psyche. He easily blocked the stake and landed a hard punch to the man's stomach, doubling him over with the force. Riley was gasping for air, the sound of his breathing sounding ragged.

"This isn't happening," he gasped to himself. Spike sneered, then snaked his hand out to grab the man by the throat, hauling him a foot off the floor.

"I'm afraid it is," he said calmly. "You know, Riley, I wonder how you would feel having people poke and prod at you with sharp instruments all day long. I bet you'd scream. Beg for your life. Probably cry and shit and piss yourself like a baby. Heh, I'd like to see that." Then, he took a deep sniff of the air, reveling in the fear that penetrated the stink of smoke. "Unfortunately, we are pressed a bit for time, and I've got a girl to save." With a hard slam, Riley was put on the table, the force stunning him. In seconds, he found himself chained to the table, a smirking Spike standing over him. "You know, I've always preferred the quick kill. Never been one to play with my food and all. That was more Angelus' style. But I think this situation calls for some special consideration, don't you?" he asked conversationally, raising a hand to show a scalpel. "S'not a railroad spike, but I've always been quick to adapt."

"Y-you're a monster," Riley gasped as he saw his life flashing before his eyes. The smile that curved Spike's lips sent ice water flowing through his veins and turned his bowels to jelly.

"You're about to find out just how much of one I am." The sickening sound of metal entering skin was followed quickly by Riley's scream of agony

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

  
Ten pairs of eyes were riveted to the Initiative complex, their gazes trying to pick out their friends from the figures darting around the perimeter. They didn't know how much time had passed since they had gotten out themselves, but each second seemed an eternity.

  
Cordy's eyes scanned the area, her back resting against Angel's chest, his arms holding her as if he would never let her go. Mark had an arm flung around Willow's shoulders, holding her tight against his side as they waited. Gunn was sitting on the ground, his arms flung across his knees, Fred sitting next to him. Her cheek was resting against his shoulder. Xander and Anya were standing together, their hands linked tightly together. Simmons was slumped against a tree, the weight of losing everything pressing against him. Wes stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, eyes never leaving the building.

"There they are!" Angel exclaimed, pointing to a figure walking towards them, carrying a smaller one. The light from the fire licking its way through the complex cast a dark shadow on them, making them seem surreal.

Spike cradled Buffy against him, worry that she hadn't woken up yet making his undead heart hurt. He glanced down at her often, scowling at the bruises that did nothing to detract from her beauty. He saw the others waiting across the field and quickened his pace, more than ready to get the hell out of here.

"Spike?" Relief filled his eyes as he looked down at Buffy.

"Hello, there, pet. Was starting to worry."

"I feel like I've been run over by a train. Twice," she told him with a grimace. She snuggled closer to him, relishing the feel of his arms around her battered body. "I'm mad at you."

"I know. I'm sorry. Thought I was doing the right thing." He brushed a kiss across her forehead in apology.

"The next time you get the idea to do something noble, remind yourself that you're supposed to be evil," she scolded, tears shining in her eyes and a watery smile on her lips. Spike chuckled and gave a nod.

"Whatever you say."

"I love you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. The fear she'd felt when he'd gone missing finally seemed to ease, making her heart feel light.

"I love you too, Buffy. I'll never leave you again."

"Better not." She playfully punched him in the chest to punctuate her words.

"We were starting to get worried," Angel told them as they came to a stop in front of them.

"Yeah, well, you know. Had to get rid of a pesky pain in my arse," Spike replied.

"Where's Riley?" Angel asked quietly. Spike glanced down at Buffy before answering his sire.

"He had to split." The two vamps stared at each other for a minute while his words hung heavy in the air around him.

"Can we go home, now? I want to sleep for a week." Buffy broke the silence, closing her eyes and settling even more comfortably in her vampire's arms.

"Amen to that," Xander said, starting to walk away.

"Oh, we need to call Tara when we get home, let her know that we're alright and get Dawn and Connor home too," Willow reminded them, following Mark into the woods.

"So, Buffy, I think my son has a thing for Dawn. Should I worry?" Angel asked.

"If he's your son, I think we have more to worry about," Spike threw back. Laughter erupted among the small group as they made their way into the night, none acknowledging the explosion that finally took the Initiative complex, and the ghosts of the last eight months, and blew it sky high.

 

  
*THE END*


End file.
